


Piece of You

by bioplast_hero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Swap, M/M, Post-Canon Alternative Universe, S2 Shiro (Voltron), S8 Scenes for Honerva Arc Only, Senior Blade Keith, Single dad Keith, Soft soft soft with happy ending, Time Travel, bottom shiro rights - he's vers don't @ me, dark!Garrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/pseuds/bioplast_hero
Summary: Instead of catching Shiro in her consciousness to save him, the black lion sends him ten years into the future. Reuniting with Keith, Shiro's unprepared for the sight of him— everything about him, his life, and the onslaught of all that has changed. Shiro never stood a chance.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 274
Kudos: 335





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Expect single dad Keith, OC adopted daughter 💖, and a parallel universe of canonverse events starting from the end of Black Paladins episode.
> 
> This is soft soft soft, but there are memories of grief a few tense plot points including some dark!Garrison. Definitely happy ending, and warm feels weaving throughout. S8 scenes appear in Chapter 9 to draw on Honerva's arc, resolved differently.
> 
> This fic started in [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero) thread form in early December and just... outgrew that format, to say the least. Enjoy!

The bond courses through him, stronger than it had ever felt before. In a flash, Shiro holds the black bayard in his hand. He _feels_ more than hears Zarkon’s terrific rage. 

They’re winning. It isn’t over, but Voltron is going to pull through. They’ll make it out of here, Shiro and all of these kids that never deserved to be on the front lines of war. He sees their faces in his mind and pushes himself harder. He sees Keith’s face when Shiro promised to never give up on him.

Then everything is blinding pain. 

~ * ~

Shiro feels too cold for far too long. He thinks dimly this might be death. 

Then there are voices in his sleep, but not quite dreams. A warning, stern, protective. Shock edged in fear. _No, no._ A voice like a bell, calm. Worry, fumbling and anxious. Movement, pain, labored breathing. 

Warmth. Safety.

Muffled sobs. The damp of hot tears and a rustling nearby. A chime saying _he’ll be okay, I know it._

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

~ * ~

Shiro finds himself on his back, watching raindrops patter on glass overhead beneath a lilac sky. He isn’t sure how long he’s been awake, but his head feels clear. He notes the way the moisture pools lazily before it runs along the roof glazing, sliding down the wall of windows to his left. 

It’s a familiar-looking rain. It could be water, but maybe isn’t. Turning his head toward the windows lined with potted plants, he studies the crimson mountains on the horizon. He’s certainly never laid eyes on this landscape before. 

“Do you like it?”

Shiro turns his head toward the voice that rings softly like a bell. He isn’t startled, not really. Part of him knew there was someone there. 

Bright eyes fill his vision, irises swirling gray like a storm back on Earth. Not like the sky here, wherever _here_ is. 

He’s sure he’s never seen her face, this child of no more than ten years who leans close to speak softly to him. She has Altean marks. But he can’t shake the feeling that he knows those eyes. 

“We’ll take you to see the cliffs when you’re better,” she says. Her voice is hushed. Like this is a secret. 

The girl sits back on her heels then, the cushion shifting beneath her knees. She brushes away strands of silver hair that tumbled forward when she’d leaned down to whisper to him. As she glances around the room, Shiro notices the line of her cropped hair as it angles upward into a shorter cut at the nape of her neck. She is all light and movement, humming and smiling privately to herself as she pulls at the blue-gray fabric of her robes. 

“We?” Shiro asks, his voice rough from disuse. 

Her face whips back to him, eyes sparkling, delighted that he did, indeed, remember how to talk. 

“Me and Airiko, we’ll take you!” She holds up a well-worn stuffie, a yellow cloth form with a bulbous face and polished black eyes just starting to chip. The doll looks something like a hippo but probably isn’t. _Not Earth,_ he reminds himself. 

“Is this Airiko?” He finds himself smiling as he points at her floppy companion. His muscles are stiff but he feels well-rested. He wonders how long he slept.

The girl nods. “He’s Airiko. I’m Ori. And you’re Shiro.”

His mouth feels too dry. He _wants_ to know her, wants to be known by her. But he doesn’t understand it. Something flutters nervously in his stomach. He has too many questions that he doesn’t want to ask a child.

“Where am I, Ori?”

“Daibazaal,” she blinks at him. 

The peace shatters. That one word sends him jerking out of bed, crouching with his hands for support when he finds his legs unwilling to hold him. /Was he captured?/ He backs himself into a corner between the wall of glass and a kitchenette counter, huddled into a houseplant with broad, red-brown leaves.

“Oh!” Ori yelps. “No, no, please don’t be frightened,” she croons at him. “This is our home, you are safe here. Promise!”

“Who lives here?”

She looks at him, puzzled. 

“Me and Ariko and daddy. Oh, and Kosmo too. We- we thought you’d like sleeping right here the best. Daddy says you always dreamed of stars.”

If Shiro’s pulse raced before, now it seems to stutter and stop.

“Wh- who is your daddy, Ori?”

She answers but he hardly hears it. Shiro’s eyes fall on a portrait propped up on the shelf behind her. Shiro would know that face anywhere, framed with wild dark hair falling in his eyes.

Keith, but not the boy he knew. A man with a confident gaze and just the hint of a smile. There’s a fall of dark hair braided over the shoulder of the gray-black bomber jacket he wears. He holds Ori tight in his lap, the girl a bit younger than she is now with a longer spill of silver hair over her plum tunic. 

_Keith._ Her… father?

He looks at the girl with astonishment. 

“Where have I been all this time?”

~ * ~

Ori is quick to forgive Shiro for his initial panic. She fetches him water and coaxes him back onto the thin mattress that seems to have taken up residence in the living area. Of their home. _Keith’s_ home. 

“You slept a long time,” she says, seeming to read his thoughts as he reexamines the details of his surroundings. 

“How long?”

“Found you a phoeb ago. Right down there,” she points out the curve of coastline cutting across the view. Shiro shudders, remembering the cold. “Daddy was scared, but I told him you were just sleeping. Like me.”

Shiro blinks at her. 

“But so much has changed. I must’ve slept longer than a month- er, phoeb. How…” Shiro swallows thickly. “I don’t understand it.”

“A phoeb’s long enough,” Ori’s mouth curls in a lopsided smile as she pops up to her feet and reaches for his hand. “So about that, I’ll show you the washroom,” she says with a playful tone.

“Are you saying I need it?” He can barely suppress the smirk that’s trying to conquer his face.

“Yeah, um,” she nods. “Yeah.” 

They both laugh. 

The washroom is simple. Ori points to a folded set of clothes in roughly his size, a pair of trousers and a dark tee sitting on a shelf. They look new. She hands him a textile he takes to be a towel before she ducks out of the room. Sparse as it is, Shiro finds himself looking with interest at all the things he can see in the small space around him. The towels woven in so many colors, intricate and handmade. The mostly-used bar of black soap on the ledge of the sink. The tiny hand-painted pots lining the windowsill inside the shower, each sporting some unknown water-loving plant. One has sunny little blossoms that smell almost like marjoram but less sweet. 

Shiro slowly turns the dial until the water’s almost scalding. It feels divine, making him aware of every nerve in his skin and the muscles beneath. His body is aching to stretch, to move. To _feel_ again. He’s thrumming with excitement and nervous energy as his mind starts to accept the notion that he won’t simply be waking up any moment now from a strange dream. He can’t imagine dreaming this; it’s too real, too detailed, and somehow the last thing he’d have imagined the future to hold.

Not bad, though. It’s wonderful, but strange. Like it doesn’t belong to him. 

He’s in the wrong _universe_ , somehow. The wrong _time_. Something happened, but what- he can’t even guess. 

As he towels off, Shiro hears voices again. A man’s voice beneath Ori’s sing-song, something familiar that tugs at his chest. He hurries to dress.

Excitement churns his insides. He can’t name it, doesn’t want to. 

As Shiro slides the door open quietly, he sees Keith before he sees him, crouching with his girl in his arms saying, “Let me do the talking this time, okay?” She shrugs noncommittally. Keith takes a deep breath. “Alright, angel,” he says softly, full of affection and something like pride.

“Daddy,” she hums to him in her quiet, _this-is-a-secret_ voice, “Shiro wants to hug you next.”

Her words take the air from Shiro’s lungs, but somehow not as much as Keith meeting his eyes does. It’s a wave crashing over him, pulling him under. He hears his name on Keith’s lips but it’s like an echo underwater. 

This man is beautiful.

Windswept and wild as ever, but honed somehow. More solid, self-assured. There’s a scar arching across his cheek; far from marring his features, it seems only to make him more striking. Shiro gapes at him, pulse quickening. 

Then Keith’s there in his arms, pressing close and holding on tight. Shiro’s breath comes out in a shudder, matching Keith’s powerful embrace with his own. 

“God, Shiro- I missed you so much.”

“Keith,” he murmurs, his heart aching. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what happened. You’re all grown up and you have a daughter and…” he trails off, already out of steam. He wonders how long he can hang on like this before Keith will wrest himself free. 

Not long. Keith pulls back to face him. 

“I think you should sit down. We have a lot to talk about.” 

~ * ~

_Ten years._

How has it been ten years? 

The last thing Shiro remembered was the fight with Zarkon. That was a decade ago. 

Shiro stares into his teacup as he contemplates what ten years of his life means. He leans against the breakfast bar in silence. Keith makes himself a cup of something _like coffee but better_ at the stovetop and then leans a hip against the counter opposite Shiro.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Shiro stammers.

Keith’s expression is tight, like he wants to say everything but stops himself. “It’s okay, Shiro. Take your time. We’ll figure this out.”

“But where have I _been_ all this time? I don’t _feel_ ten years older… do I look it?”

“No, you don’t,” Keith breathes a laugh. There’s blush on his cheeks now and he won’t meet Shiro’s eyes.

“And honestly, we don’t know where you’ve been. But Pidge thinks you’re in the right reality. Something about quantum signatures and,” Keith makes a vague _science stuff_ gesture, “and you know, I’ve learned to take her at her word. Her guess is time travel.”

There’s so much to process in that statement. Shiro decides to start with the simplest question first. 

“Pidge is here?” 

He can’t help his excitement at the thought; of course he wants to see everyone, to know they’re happy and healthy and whole after the war.

“No,” Keith huffs a laugh. “She wanted to be. But not yet. Ori and me, we’ve had to keep a low profile the last couple years.”

Shiro’s stomach twists. “Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

Keith gives him a level look. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he says a bit tightly. “It’s a long story. But I sent Pidge some scans after I found you, figured you’d understand it was… necessary.”

“You sent scans to figure out if this wasn’t my reality?”

“No, uh,” Keith winces, “not initially. I needed Pidge to make sure you weren’t a clone.”

“What?” Shiro regrets how incredulous his voice sounds, but it strikes him as nonsense. “Come on, Keith- a clone?”

“Yeah, Shiro,” Keith scratches at the back of his neck, his expression worried. “It’s really weird out here, alright? I don’t even know where to start,” he sighs. Keith's shoulders bunch up with tension until he releases them back down, like he’s made up his mind about something. “The last time I thought I’d found you, he was actually your clone. It was Honerva’s doing.” At Shiro’s blank look, Keith amends, “I mean Haggar. It was Honerva again by the end of the war.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I keep forgetting how much catching up I’ll have to do. Sorry. But I promise, it’s really me, Keith. I swear.”

Keith’s look softens. 

“I know it’s really you,” he moves like he’ll reach out, like he wants to touch Shiro’s arm, reassure him somehow. But he holds back. “But forgive me for making sure, alright? Your clone also believed he was really you. And... he was, in a way. Just- another you.” 

Keith’s look becomes distant, going somewhere Shiro can’t follow. The air hangs heavily between them. 

“What happened to him?”

“He died,” Keith says quietly, his expression tightly controlled. “I- we couldn’t save him.”

Shiro notices Ori has found her way to Keith, hooking her arms around his leg. It melts Shiro’s heart. Keith reaches down and ruffles her hair, making her giggle. 

“So that’s three times I lost you, Shiro.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. He looks at Ori who is studying her stuffed hippo’s face. “This alright for her? It’s heavy stuff.”

Keith arches an eyebrow at him, but that surprises him less than Ori’s matching expression. Like father, like daughter. Keith scoops her up and tucks her against his hip. “If you thought I was too young to fight a war, I’ve got nothing on her.”

Shiro's eyes go wide even as he fights to control his expression. He can't find the words. He aborts his attempt when Keith makes a halting gesture.

“You’ll see, alright? We’ve all had time to get over our shock at this little one. You just get ready.”

Shiro’s brow creases with concern. “Good or bad?”

Keith’s look is fond as he toys with her hair.

“Wonderful.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith tried to save him. 

He fell with him, wouldn’t let go. Wouldn’t dream of it. Damn his own life- what was it, without Shiro? If the black lion hadn’t been there—

But she was. Black scooped them up, almost gently for all of her urgency to reach her paladins in time. But after the fight, Shiro- Kuron- whatever, the man with Shiro’s face, the only Shiro he had, he fell apart.

The healing pod did nothing for him. Haggar had used him up to the very last drop. He was never meant to survive it, and he never woke up no matter how Keith pleaded.

Everyone was there. The paladins, Coran, Krolia. Keith’s true family. And Shiro. _SHIRO._

He was Shiro, in every way that mattered, and he died in Keith’s arms.

Black’s roar rattled in Keith’s mind as his heart shattered.

~ * ~

None of the shoes Keith has will fit Shiro. Of course they don’t.

Keith had prepared in almost every way for Shiro to wake up, that much was clear. Like he’d been desperate for something to _do-_ something besides waiting helplessly for Shiro’s body to heal and release him. He looked haunted by the mere thought of it. Keith didn’t do helpless very well. 

“It’s okay, Keith.”

“I can’t fucking believe I forgot shoes.”

“It’s really okay.”

“Kosmo can take me, that’d be quickest- if you hang tight here—”

“Keith, hey,” his hand finds Keith’s shoulder like it always has. “Come on. It’s fine. Shoes don’t matter right now. You’ve done so much for me.”

Those eyes like nebulae find his. Something flickers there, fleeting, and it heats Shiro’s face before Keith ducks down- looking, it seems, at his own feet. 

Keith toes off his boots, socks following.

“Shoes don’t matter,” Keith murmurs with ruddy cheeks. It’s something. 

He’s looking out at waves crashing high on the beach. High tide, Shiro guesses. The morning has warmed considerably and the rain stopped, stubborn clouds brightening by the minute but not giving way. It’s warm enough for bare feet.

A great padding of paws and clicking of claws approaches Shiro from behind. That would be the horse-sized, fur-covered, totally-alien alpha predator that Keith has the audacity to call both a _wolf_ and _totally harmless, I promise._ Kosmo gives Shiro’s hip a gentle bump with his muzzle. 

Their first meeting was less than ideal, to Shiro’s mind. Being teleported _into_ and completely flattened to the floorboards by the world’s mangiest _not-dog_ is, well, not what Shiro would choose as a very first greeting. 

The teleportation sure is a neat trick, though.

He looks at the wolf. _Truce,_ he thinks.

Something in those gold-ringed eyes says, _We’ll see._

Shiro thinks he really prefers cats. But when the wolf chuffs at that, he decides he at least likes this creature’s sense of humor. 

“Alright boys,” Keith drawls, teasing, “let’s get you both some fresh air.”

~ * ~

It was all she knew, this luminous field of dappled white flecked with aquamarine. It was all she’d ever known.

It was beautiful here, brilliant and endless. She was floating. Drifting.

She blinked her eyes, sort of, but no matter. It was always just as bright. 

But she had a body. She could feel it distantly, curled close around herself, knees to where her heart should be. And yes- she had a heart, beating, still strong after all this time. She had two feet, two hands. 

Her hands had grown cold some time ago. The chill sunk into her bones. 

And it was not as bright as it once was. Now and then she would glimpse the dark beyond, where there was nothing. This light, this was what was left, all the energy she had. Bright as it was, it was fading. Not much time left.

It was lonely here in this dimming world.

The other lives were gone. And there was peace in that; they’d wanted to let go, to die. It hurt, what they were. Broken pieces of lives that weren’t allowed to be whole. 

The first time she felt the void, it scared her. 

It was a terror, the rush of cold, empty nothingness- she choked on it, suffocating in it- gasping for help in the sudden dark. It was instinct to reach out, with anything- with _everything_ that she was. 

And when she found—what exactly? Vitality, comfort, energy—she lapped gently at the web of power surrounding herself and the others. It tasted like sorrow, suffering, fear- at first. There was also relief. 

She drank deep then, pulled life into herself to keep herself strong, and it tasted like gratitude.

_Save her._

Something good. Something noble- worth doing, worth giving. _At least we can save her._

They’d given her all they could.

But that was a long time ago — it couldn’t last forever.

~ * ~

Keith searched for Shiro.

First, he had to focus on the team. Together the paladins fought Lotor, and sacrificed the Castle of Lions to close the rift. 

Keith was needed.

But when the dust settled, there was only the paladins and Coran, their lions, the wolf, and their new guests, Krolia and Romelle. And the endless void of space. 

And no Shiro. 

Hunk was the first to suggest that maybe it was time to regroup with Earth. Pidge chimed in that without the castle and time to recharge, Voltron wouldn’t be in any kind of shape to defend the universe. They needed a new ship. They needed engineers, resources, technology that—in the hands of the Holts, if not the rest of humanity—could feasibly replace the Castle. They’d need to regroup with Sam on Earth. 

It was a sound plan. Keith wanted to agree, he really did. But he was heartbroken, torn apart. The pull to look for Shiro was maddening, however far-fetched it seemed to imagine him alive and well after all this time. 

At least if he’d left behind a body, maybe Keith could make peace with it. Maybe.

As it stood, his only thought was _what if he’s still out there. What if Haggar has him, is still holding him captive. What if he’s alive, and Keith had stopped looking for him when he needed him._

He couldn’t live with that. 

Keith worried his feelings would fall on deaf ears, but he was wrong. The team understood Keith’s feelings better than ever before- all that went unsaid, about what Shiro meant to Keith. 

And Keith had earned their trust. He was their black paladin, not like before.

And in the end, it wasn’t just Keith who felt responsible for giving up the search. Keith told them about the clone facility, and if there was any chance of another place like that, they had to look. If this was all they could do now to protect Shiro, then it had to be done. 

They scoured the sector. They did find other facilities, all eerily abandoned, but these ones were different. Much smaller installations than the place where Keith had fought for his life—and Shiro's, too.

These had only a few orderly labs. Each one was sort of... specialized.

_Genetic experiments,_ Pidge said. 

_Been running on backup generators for at least a deca-phoeb,_ Hunk said. _Maybe longer._

It’s clearly Haggar’s work, all of it, but they don’t find any more cloned copies of Shiro, and no real Shiro, either. Just… bits and pieces. Shiro’s DNA is in every sample. Some appear mutated. It makes them all sick. Others were spliced with DNA from other beings. 

What was Haggar after? Augmentation, the ideal soldier? It didn't line up.

Most of what they find inside, if it ever were living, had already died for want of sustenance, warmth, energy. Most, but not all. 

He finds a girl.

~ * ~

The beach is rough, courser than sand- but if he’s being honest, it feels good between his toes. Grounding. Real. 

Daibazaal is nothing like Shiro would have thought.

Not that he’s given it a lot of thought. Daibazaal was gone, last he'd checked.

And of course it is _New_ Daibazaal—but if the planet truly was ‘resurrected’ as Keith says, then what, really, was the difference?

The ancestral home world of the great and terrible Galra empire. It’s… beautiful. 

The clouds are breaking but the sky beyond is still strange, a shade too purple to be blue. That same shade reflects back at him from the sea. The waves are choppy, there’s a stiff wind at their backs, and Shiro’s glad to know that it is salt water that’s chasing their ankles where the waves are lapping at the beach.

Keith starts filling him in, but it’s in fragments as he thinks of what to say. There’s so much to explain, almost too much to hold.

The big things stick.

The lions are gone.

It stings to hear. Shiro knows on some level that it’s black who saved him- it must be. He loved being her paladin, and then all of what that meant is _gone_ just like that. He never got to say goodbye.

Lance and Allura are married. Shiro’s jaw hits the beach.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“LANCE?”

“Yep,” Keith smiles a knowing smile. “He’s grown up a lot, you know. We all have.”

Shiro freezes. He's right, it's just Shiro can't really bend his mind around ten lost years. Of course he always liked Lance, a great deal in fact. The boy was just… a lot.

Not a boy now, but a man. Prince Consort, to be precise, and Allura is rightly at the helm of the new Altean home world. The planet is home to what is left of her people, more of them than Shiro would have thought. Most of the surviving Alteans are from a recovered colony, the circumstances of which were, honestly, almost too strange to comprehend. Shiro understands just the barest facts of what he knows must be a much longer story.

Ori chooses this moment to chatter on a bit about her ‘cousins,’ and Keith blushes furiously realizing he hasn’t even mentioned the twins. Luki takes the most after Allura, though he doesn’t appear to have to alchemical gift. And Var takes after Lance most. She’s a handful already at only 4.

Shiro loves the way Keith laughs, light in his eyes, when he talks about family. Theirs, and his. It clenches something in Shiro’s chest.

Allura, Lance, together with Coran and someone called Romelle— they keep their hands full with New Altea’s political affairs, diplomatic envoys on behalf of the Coalition, and wrangling a home in big ways and small.

Hunk has been busy running a bit of a one-man empire (ahem, understatement), not just as a chef but as an engineer and entrepreneur. Pidge is the Coalition’s foremost expert on security tech, an interdisciplinary whiz as always. Other than Matt, who tends to be on Keith’s end of the universe more often than not, the rest of the Holts are still tangled up with the Garrison— a fact that makes Keith visibly twitch.

Keith… doesn’t say much about himself, about his past decade. Not yet. It’s a glaring omission, not just because it’s exactly what Shiro is dying to know. 

Keith just flinches away from certain topics, hesitant. Shiro makes up his mind to give him time, no matter how desperate he is to know.

Their barefoot walk on the beach shortly turns into a jog, a kind of halfhearted catch-Ori-and-Kosmo game. Keith and Shiro are playing their own game. Before long, it’s an all-out race between the two men.

Ori is clinging to Kosmo’s silvery mane, feet only sometimes catching the ground. They’re teleporting ahead again and again- so that Ori can taunt and cheer them on, doing both in about equal measure.

“I thought you were on my team,” Keith teases when she shrieks for Shiro to win. “Traitor,” he calls over labored breathing. 

“‘M always your team, daddy,” she giggles like he’s just the silliest. The exchange melts Shiro into a puddle then and there. “Besides, Shiro’s your team, too!”

Even at a full sprint, Shiro spares a glance at Keith’s face. He’s glorious, a vision of power and fluid movement, hair escaping his braid and swirling in the wind around them. 

And he’s looking at Shiro.

The moment suspends. Shiro’s steps falter, but so do Keith’s.

They’re panting as they slow to a walk. Shiro wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Not bad, old timer. You still got it.”

“Hey now. I don’t think you get to call me that if you’re older than me now,” Shiro arches an eyebrow.

“Naw, sorry. Some things are forever.”

Shiro can’t help but stare— at the healthy flush on Keith’s cheeks, and the sight of sunlight breaking over his features against a lavender sky and red mountains beyond. He’s lost in the mischievous glint of Keith’s fathomless eyes.

“Some things are forever,” Shiro agrees. 


	3. Chapter 3

She hasn’t heard a voice in such a very long time. 

Past voices were not kind. They came and went with heavy footsteps. They followed precise instructions, adjusted settings, ran tests. When they were gone they were not to be missed.

Not like the others, the ones who saved her. They couldn’t speak but they _cared._

This voice is new.

Hushed tones, stern, commanding. The voice is gravelly and raw as if from shouting or- crying? If it was just the voice, she might fear it. But she feels something else from that voice, something hidden away where she can only just taste it at the edges.

_ Hope. _

“Help me open this,” the voice says.

“You can’t be serious—” another voice answers.

“Hunk, what choice do we have? She’ll die here.”

Time passes with only the sounds of effort, metal grating on metal. Panting, straining. A cold rush of air.

Hands. She feels hands— strong, capable hands that are nonetheless uncertain. Reality tilts and whirls, an awful feeling as she’s moved, lifted. She can’t open her eyes— she never has before. How is it done?

She’ll have to learn how.

She feels strength, being held. It’s new. She wants to trust.

It’s not that easy. The one with the voice, their discomfort is clear— like a scent in the air, but in her mind. Unease. Worry. It makes her chest tight. For the first time, she cries.

~ * ~

Keith holds the girl in his arms, his grip too tight. Those are Altean marks. 

He’s the one who insisted they pull her from the wreckage, but now that he’s holding her he’s overwhelmed. Knowing washes over him, tinged with dread as he understands.

Who this child must be.

What Haggar must have done.

Confusion, revulsion. That witch used Shiro while he was captive, tortured him, made a mockery of his life with her sadistic experiments. Abominations. 

And then this.

The girl sniffles and stirs in his hold, biting off a sob. It’s more of a whimper, too hushed— not the way a child cries. Her eyes pinch tight, her face crumpled in distress.

_No,_ Keith thinks, seized by the instinct to protect. She’s innocent. He holds the girl tighter to his chest, humming what he hopes will be a comforting sound.

“There’s nothing else here,” he says to the others. “Let’s go.”

“You’re just… taking her?” Pidge asks. It’s the same question they all have.

“Yes.” He has to help her, save her. He feels it in his bones.

“Have you thought about this at all?”

“What’s to think about? She’s—”

_Shiro._

This child, her life, it might be all they have left of Shiro. Though he’ll never admit it aloud, he hears it in his mind for the first and only time. _Shiro is really gone._

Keith holds the girl like a lifeline— he hers, and she his.

~ * ~

The run on the beach does Shiro some good. He loves using his muscles, feeling his lungs burn— and after his long sleep, it seems to be exactly what he needed.

And he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Not when he could be here like this with- _Keith._ With Keith and his daughter, about whom Shiro still knows next to nothing.

“Where is her mother?”

Keith winces. Shiro thinks his heart might break, if he has to hear that she’s died. That Ori lost her mother, like Keith once lost his whole family. That Keith has lost the woman he loved, like he’s lost so much else. 

It’s impossible. It isn’t fair.

Just- _No._

“Shiro,” Keith says gently, studying him with concern. Shiro has to wonder if he muttered aloud without thinking, or if this is just Keith reading him so very well. 

“It- it’s not what you think, okay?” Keith aims for reassurance but his eyes are distant. “Ori never really _had_ a mother, not like you’re thinking. The truth is, we… found her.”

“Where?”

“You can’t imagine it, Shiro,” he sighs. “I’m not even sure I want you to.”

“I want to know, Keith. I- I want to know all I can about her.”

Keith glances up at him then, his scrutinizing expression breaking into a grin. “She’s got you by the heart, too, huh? It never takes long.”

No point in denying that. Shiro nods and waits, hoping Keith will tell him.

Keith’s smile falls, and slowly he hangs his head. “Found her in a lab. One of Honerva’s.”

Shiro holds his jaw shut by force of will alone. 

“She was just there, like- a specimen. In a pod,” Keith plows ahead like he’ll never get it out if he doesn’t just let the words fall from his lips. “There was no power, the whole installation was dark. Totally abandoned. Everything else was dead. I’m not at all sure what it all was, just tank after tank of death. But her unit was- it was glowing with quintessence. Not the tainted, purple stuff, but blue,” Keith hums at the memory, “sparkling. There was life there. And… power.”

Shiro swallows. “What did you do?”

“The others were worried. I mean, they were right to be. She could’ve been dangerous, you know?” Keith chuckles ruefully. “She was something Honerva had created. All we’d ever known of her was how she wrought misery and death.” Keith shakes his head.

“The team wanted to take the whole pod with us, keep her in cryo until we could figure things out. But I emptied the tank, got it pried open, and just… carried her out of there. Did it without thinking, I just- knew I had to get her out.”

“Why?”

Keith bites his lip. He’s quiet for a long moment, considering. “I felt something pulling. Like the blue lion. Like when you crashed. Like there was something in her that was reaching, searching. I know what that feels like- being that alone. I had to answer.”

Keith doesn’t elaborate, but Shiro thinks he knows. The endless searching for something you’ve lost, someone. Guilt swells in Shiro’s chest. He hates that he vanished, that he left his friend suffering. He hates that Keith knows that pain so well. Because he grew up alone. Because Shiro vanished on him, so many times. He doesn’t know how to make it up to him, but he’ll sure as hell try.

“So I carried her out, and… then we destroyed it all.” 

Shiro blinks. “Wasn’t it abandoned? Why bother?” 

Keith meets his eyes. “I thought Honerva still had you somewhere. I never found you, never any more clones, but what we found was still her… research. I- don’t know how to tell you this,” Keith’s hands were clenched in tight fists in frustration, “so I’ll just say it. Every scan we took, it was your DNA.”

Shiro gapes at him. “My god.” He staggers, but Keith’s already there, steadying him.

“Fuck- Shiro, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry,” Shiro breathes, his head spinning. He's so grateful for Keith's steadiness. “You didn’t do anything- except try to protect me. You did that.”

Keith shakes his head, squeezing Shiro’s shoulder as he finds his balance again.

“I kept getting more furious,” Keith says, his jaw tight. “I can’t imagine how you feel. It’s… invasive. It’s awful. I kept thinking, maybe if I can find all of it, end all of it, at least maybe you can rest. Even if I never find you,” Keith’s voice strains. “We destroyed every facility we found.”

Shiro’s hand finds its way to Keith’s shoulder, and resting it there is like coming home. Keith’s eyes tell him the same.

“Thank you, Keith.”

Keith shakes his head. 

“No, listen,” Shiro continues. This is important, somehow. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you. You went through hell trying to find me, to protect me. I’m… grateful.” 

Keith’s eyes are smiling even if his lips are not. Shiro thinks that’s enough. “I’d do it again. Whatever it takes—” he breaks off, suddenly uncomfortable. He shakes his head instead. 

“And- it’s like that with her, too. Only, more- if you can imagine.”

Shiro’s eyes fall on Ori, playing with Kosmo in the distance.

“And it was like that, from the beginning?”

“Yeah, I mean… it was. She woke up, and we just- fit. Everyone said it was _complicated,_ but I thought it was simple. Honerva gave her life, but Ori was innocent of what she had done. Ori had no family- no one, but I was willing. I don’t know about _ready_ —didn’t know what I was doing, at all.”

Keith’s laugh is brimming with so much memory, of insecurity and stumbling, and helpless loving. Shiro aches for everything he missed.

He wants to share those memories, to know how the weave of everything that happened has formed the man before his eyes.

Riveted, Shiro watches as the laugh fades to a somber gaze following his girl down the beach. Her hair catches the light, brilliant and bouncing.

“But I figured, you know, it’d be better than what I had. I’d make sure of it. A pair of halfling orphans take on the world,” Keith smirks and it lights his eyes.

Shiro smiles at the sight. Then he hears the words again and pauses. 

“Halfling? I thought she was Altean, like Honerva.”

Keith stiffens. After a few beats, he curses softly under his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” When Keith doesn’t answer, Shiro feels himself tense with worry. “What is it, Keith? Her other heritage…”

Keith’s eyes trail up to Shiro’s face. “Human. She’s half human, Shiro.”

_Human._

No. No, he can’t mean- the lab—

“Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

All Shiro can see are storm-gray eyes.

~ * ~

She knows the voice now, always close by. Someone safe with warm hands who brushes strands of her hair away from where they tickle her face. Her fingers and toes aren’t cold anymore, wrapped in softness, held close as she tries and tries to wake.

The first time she opens her eyes, it’s half dark, but not in the way she used to fear.

Dark and tender eyes blink down at her. She tries it- blinks.

There’s surprise on that face. She feels breath on her cheeks at the exhale. Then shifting, reaching for something.

Dark hair brushes where her fingers are fisted in softness. She opens her fingers to catch it, feeling the strands slide through her fist. She twists her fingers in the black hair.

The face returns, gently startled at her grip. Something’s happening in that face and she can’t look away. Mouth pulling upwards at the corners. She feels her mouth answer.

A… smile.

~ * ~

“Hello little one,” Keith says quietly. 

She blinks again in the low light of the makeshift cabin, the black lion humming approvingly in Keith’s mind. It’s like magic, seeing her misty gray eyes. So like Shiro’s it steals Keith’s breath.

He _knew,_ of course. But seeing is something else.

“Will you eat for me?” 

He tips her up just a bit from the pillows, still swaddled in whatever blankets they could find, and extends a tiny spoon to her lips. It’s a small bite of a mashed sweet fruit, watered down to be gentler. She’s not an infant, but who knows if she’s ever eaten solid food before?

Thank god for Hunk’s food sensibilities, and for Lance’s input too- in a family as big as his, Lance has definitely spoon-fed a toddler or several.

She touches her lip to the spoon. Keith takes that as a yes. She takes a couple tentative slurps, then makes a soft sound he doesn’t understand. He puts the spoon away.

Keith lays a hand on her chest. He means it to be reassuring. He hopes he’s doing that right.

If only Shiro were here. Keith always did look to him for insights into new people, new situations. Shiro was always so natural with people. He’s so lost in his thoughts for a moment that he doesn’t see it coming at all.

“He’lo,” she coos softly.

Keith’s eyes go wide. He did not account for this. 

If she can speak, maybe she knows where she came from. Maybe she wasn’t always in that tank, maybe she has- memories. She could be upset to have been taken from that place, though he can’t see how. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s so much he hasn’t considered.

“W- what’s your name?” He stutters.

The girl seems to be looking at the way he moves his mouth. She scrunches her eyes curiously, like she’s thinking. 

“Dunno,” she chews at her lip. 

Keith feels his heart strain at that admission, at the cruelty and neglect he can only assume on account of where he found her. She doesn’t know who she is. To that witch, she was probably nobody. 

Not to Keith. 

“What do you remember?”

Her face crumples, biting at her lip.

“You don’t remember anything?” 

She tilts her head. “Jus’ sleeping—” she yawns. 

Keith pats the blankets as he tucks them up under her chin again. “You sleep some more. We’ll figure it all out.”

~ * ~

“Keith.”

He stays silent. Listening. Waiting. 

“Keith. When were you going to tell me.” 

“Wasn’t sure when you’d be ready.” 

Shiro’s mouth feels too dry. “Fair.” He bends down, hands on his knees. Stands back up. Walks toward the waves, turns around. “She’s… related to me?”

Keith nods, his shoulders tense. “Part you, part Honerva. Colleen ran a lot of tests when we first made it back to Earth. Whatever Honerva’s intent, Ori came from something more like an embryo than gene splicing.”

“So, more my- offspring, than my clone.”

The word is clinical, cold. It tastes like ash in his mouth. Not the word he wants to say. But he has no claim to anything more. 

“Right,” Keith agrees stiffly. “We still don’t know why she did it. Most likely Ori was… more incidental than anything. Utilitarian, one of hundreds of tests she did with your genes. If she wanted to discover if Alteans and Humans were compatible, she’d use herself as a sample. Nothing sentimental about it in her eyes. At least, not then.”

A shudder crawls up Shiro’s spine. “There could be others? Other… children?”

Keith looks at him, calculating. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so. We searched. Most of those experiments died without ever leaving a pod. Some were probably non-viable, and others died when there was no power, nothing to sustain them. That Ori survived had more to do with her gifts. She was asleep, passively pulling quintessence from her environment. Just enough to keep herself alive.”

“She’s a survivor,” Shiro murmurs.

Keith huffs a laugh. “Just like her d—”

He cuts himself off cold. 

_ Her what? What was he to her?  _

Shiro needs so desperately for Keith to say it, for Keith to be the one to voice it, make it real for him. To give him permission. He wants this connection, but it feels like taking something from Keith and he can’t do that. 

Keith is her dad. Keith has been her dad, Shiro has been gone all this time. He didn’t raise her. She doesn’t owe him anything, neither of them do. He just… wants.

“Keith.”

“I- I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry? Please, please tell me what you were gonna say.”

Keith looks anxious, terribly so. But then he looks up and a smile tugs at Keith’s mouth, small and fond. “You’re so alike, the two of you. Guess I can’t say no you, either. Or I’m terribly out of practice,” he sighs. Then Keith straightens his shoulders.

“She’s your daughter, Shiro. Of course she is. As much as she’s anyone’s. She’s… part of you, part of your family.”

Shiro thought he was ready to hear it, but it still hits him like a tsunami. He’s overwhelmed. _Daughter. My daughter._

And also, _Keith’s daughter._ It isn’t until he thinks this, too, that he is able to take a shuddering breath. He couldn’t have done this alone, not like Keith has. 

He feels Keith’s hand cupping his cheek. When did he step so close? It’s so intimate, but it steadies him. Keith always seems to know what he needs. Shiro looks and feels himself tumbling into Keith’s violet eyes.

“You okay?”

He swallows. “I have a daughter,” he says, breathless.

“You’re smiling,” Keith says, his tone wry and questioning.

“Yeah,” Shiro laughs, “yeah I am. I mean, it’s a lot, I’m terrified, but- but I’m glad.”

“You are?” Keith’s eyes sparkle.

“About Ori? Of course I am! It’s just,” Shiro digs his bare toes into the course sand. Deep breath, in, out. He looks at Keith squarely. 

“You’re her dad. That’s indisputable. Are- are you saying you’d let me… share?”

Keith laughs, and it rings out light and free. “She deserves all the love in the world. And, if there’s anyone I’d trust to give their all for her, it’s you.”

Shiro blinks. “Wow, Keith.”

“It’s true.” There’s a blush dusting his cheeks, a gorgeous sight.

Shiro marvels at the thought of Keith and Ori by his side, his very own family. He can hear her laughter; the wolf is chasing her back to their side at this very moment.

It’s the family he never imagined, never could have. It’s too perfect.

“You really love her,” Shiro says, his eyes misting at the sight of her joyous face.

Keith breathes out and the sound draws Shiro’s eye, the slight hitch. He’s still so close.

“How could I not?” Keith says quietly. “That’d be like… not loving you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd and delivered here from thread fic form. I'm sure you'll find mistakes, so thank you for your grace.
> 
> Enjoy! ^_^

“What will you call her?” 

Romelle’s question pulls Keith from his revery, looking down at the face of the silver-haired girl dozing in his arms. The asteroid they landed on for the night is inhospitable, so they all decided to meet up in Black’s hangar for a quick meal.

“This isn’t one of those ‘she’ll tell me her name eventually’ kind of deals, is it?” Lance rolls his eyes.

Keith knows the expression on his face is blank. “Um.”

Hunk winces. “No. No no no, Keith! That girl needs a name, for the love of all that is sacred—”

Keith holds up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know, okay? I just- thought of one, but I’m not… I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“Oh! What is it?” Allura asks, so eagerly that Keith can’t help but feel cornered.

“I- It’s—”

“I’m sure whatever name you choose,” Krolia takes a step toward her son, “it will suit her very well.”

Her protective-parent tone brooks no argument. Keith really needs to learn how she does it. It doesn’t quell anyone’s curiosity, not in the slightest, but it’ll buy him a quintant or two.

“Thanks, mom,” Keith murmurs as the others walk away.

Her hand finds its way to Keith’s shoulder. He almost flinches—it’s Shiro’s gesture—but if there’s anyone else he’d accept that kind of comfort from, he figures it should be his own mother.

“It’s your decision, Keith. Take all the time you need.”

“I know, it’s just,” he swallows, “how wrong is it, that I think of him every time I look at her?”

Krolia hums to herself. “Seems only natural, considering. Does it bother you?”

“Dunno, it just seems… grim. She deserves to be more than a…” _What, Keith? A tribute, a eulogy?_ He chokes on the mere thought. “Someone else’s memory,” he says at last.

“And she is, of course. You know that.”

Keith sighs, rubbing his tired eyes. “Am I doomed to think of him every time I see her?”

She’s quiet a moment. It strikes him then that it might be the same for her— seeing her son, missing her mate. Not that Shiro had been that. Only in Keith’s heart. 

“Would you rather not have that, Keith?”

“No,” he breathes, “no, I wouldn’t. It just… hurts.”

Keith worries she’ll say something reassuring about healing in time, something he won’t believe anyway, but she doesn’t and he’s thankful. She knows better than anyone. He’s not alone in that.

Keith bites his lip, considering the one name he’s returned to again and again since he first came across it while digging through the file Pidge sent over the day before. He’s given up questioning where this stuff comes from, just assuming it’s scrounged from somewhere in her bizarre collection of external drives and space mall spoils; scrolling through an index of baby names from Earth is about as disorienting as Kaltenecker and milkshakes on this side of the universe.

It’s a lovely name, with its Japanese origin and so-familiar sound.  史織 , _woven history._ When he found it, Keith had traced the kanji in the air over his screen, like he hoped to burn the many unfamiliar lines into his memory. Maybe with time.

Keith touches her face, causing her nose to scrunch up in sleep. His heart squeezes at the sight.

“Shiori,” he whispers.

~ * ~

Shiro isn’t sure about the details, but he gets the general picture. 

He’s not a clone, the test for genetic drift is fairly conclusive. And he’s not displaced from an alternative reality, either; Pidge is confident. She started into an explanation of how quantum signatures work, paused to consider the vacant expression on Shiro’s face, and went with a simple “trust me on this one” instead.

Shiro’s no slouch, intellectually, but he’s a generalist—and hell if Pidge isn’t in a league all her own. He stopped bristling at his relative-simpleton status long ago.

Pidge’s brow furrows over the transmission as Keith asks how she knows it’s time travel.

_“Well… I don’t, really. I mean, we haven’t invented the technology,”_ she chews her lip. _“There are theories but nothing solid; I can’t really test for it if I don’t know how it works. But… I’m working on it.”_

Keith arches an eyebrow. “Working on what… inventing time travel?”

There’s a flash of glare as Pidge adjusts her glasses, which still after all this time seem far too big for her face. There are telltale signs of a Garrison office all around her.

_ “Sure. Why not?” _

Shiro breathes a laugh. 

_“What?”_ she demands. 

“It’s just- good to see you in your element like this,” Shiro smiles, hoping the half-dark of Keith’s control room will hide his flustered blush. “It feels like just days ago I was flying with you all, but- I find myself missing it. Missing all of you.”

Pidge’s expression softens into something unexpectedly watery. _“I think we call dibs on missing you, Shiro,”_ she sniffs. _“God it’s good to see you again.”_

Shiro feels Keith’s palm at the back of his arm, warming him like a flame. He knows he’s displaced, that he doesn’t _belong_ here in their time, but the paladins will always be home.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

~ * ~

It was a close call, but their brush with the last druid, Macidus, ended with everyone intact—even Kolivan.

Keith wasn’t surprised that Krolia would be leaving with him, parting ways to help the Blade of Marmora recover from their devastating losses during those three missing years.

He’s not surprised, but it aches. It feels like he needs his mom more than he ever has, as he embarks on raising a little girl all on his own.

Allura has been quiet since the fight, distracted. Keith keeps catching her looking at Ori wherever she goes. He can’t make sense of her expression as they head back to their lions, but he thinks it’s something like fear.

When he catches Allura by the elbow by the blue lion, she hesitates to meet Keith’s eyes.

“What happened down there?” he asks. “How’d you get out of Macidus’ trap?”

“I was able to manipulate the quintessence field with my own,” she says carefully. Keith nods, suitably impressed. He’ll believe anything Allura says, really, not knowing the first thing about how her alchemy works.

“But it was Ori’s idea.”

“Wh- what?”

Allura shakes her head. “I don’t know, exactly. I just heard her in my mind, more feeling than words. I think she was… trying to manipulate it herself, but she wasn’t strong enough to do it.”

Keith realizes with a little flip of the stomach that he’s not really as surprised as he should be. He saw the cloud of energy surrounding her— _only_ her—when he pulled her from the pod.

“So, she’s an alchemist?”

He can hear Romelle behind them, bouncing Ori and cooing to her, keeping her busy until Keith is ready to board his lion with them. Ori’s laughter rings through the air like a tiny bell.

“I don’t know,” Allura kneads her hands in frustration, “I just— that girl has power. More than Haggar, far more than one should have at this age. I don’t think she even realizes that she has abilities. We have no idea what Haggar intended when she conceived of that child.”

“But, she’s innocent! She hasn’t done anything wrong,” the protest rips from Keith’s throat, leaving him raw.

“And no less dangerous for her innocence,” Allura sighs.

Keith’s mind is racing. “Okay, so, she just- needs to learn how to control this- power that she has. I know she doesn’t want to hurt anybody! She just wants a home, needs a home—”

“Keith, please. Calm down,” Allura chides softly. “I haven’t the slightest idea what to do here, but you may rest assured I would not see any harm come to the girl. I am only… worried.”

Keith releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. “She needs a teacher.” Allura blinks at him, so he continues. “You’re saying Ori has powers she can’t understand yet, and she’ll need guidance. She’ll need you, Allura.”

Allura startles back. “Keith, I’m no teacher, I myself can hardly understand—”

“—Better than me. Better than anyone else, okay? I’m just asking you to try.”

Allura’s eyes stray past his shoulder, and Keith follows her gaze. Ori is watching them quietly while Romelle sits on Black’s paw hugging the girl in her lap.

“Very well, Keith. I will see what I can do.”

~ * ~

Daddy celebrates things called birthdays. It’s an Earth thing, he says— a place that means little more to her besides knowing it’s their destination, and a place daddy once called home. She thinks she'll like to see it.

The first birthday she sees is for Hunk. Everyone gathers and tells stories, and what she likes best are the things called cinnamon rolls. There is something about blowing out the fire, too, and making a wish? The shower of sparks is so bright and fantastic— a _sparkler,_ it’s called. It was the closest anyone could find to birthday candles since being in space.

“When is your birthday, daddy?”

He bounces her on his knee. “Few phoebs ago. You can celebrate with me for the next one.” 

“When is it gonna be my birthday?” she asks.

“I dunno, sweetheart,” daddy bites his lip like he’s sorry. “We don’t know exactly when you were born, but we can pick a birthday anyway. It can be the day I found you,” he suggests. “What matters is we can mark the passing time and celebrate a bit.”

Ori tilts her head, considering. This whole birthday thing is puzzling, but if daddy likes it she wants to play along. 

“Okay,” she says, deciding. “The day I woke up. Can I have sparklers and cinnamon rolls, too?”

Her dad smiles and she thinks he looks relieved. “Any treat you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

The second birthday she remembers is quiet. Just her and daddy. It’s after bedtime and the black lion is almost totally dark— but daddy seems to like it that way, likes seeing in the dark. She sits patiently where he asked her to.

He’s lighting a sparkler he stuck in a thing called a cupcake that Hunk brought over, with creamy white icing that looks delicious and soft. Daddy seemed to understand why Hunk brought it so late, patted his shoulder, and left without a word. 

The sparkler is pink this time, the afterimage dancing as she blinks her eyes. It’s beautiful and it’s sad, because daddy is sad. This is for daddy’s lost friend, the one he misses all the time. The one who always dreamed of stars. 

He doesn’t blow it out. He watches it burn to the last spark.

_Why,_ she asks.

_It’s not mine to blow out,_ he answers.

He tears the cupcake in half and places her piece in her palm. It tastes like sugar and strange fruit and she likes the cinnamon roll better, but it’s okay.

She feels his wish then like it’s in her own mind, and maybe it is. He wants him to be free.

She tucks herself into his side, and thinks the thought just as hard as she can— that he will be. He just has to wake up.

~ * ~

Shiro falls in love.

He falls for little Ori— yes, oh yes. _His daughter._ It’s a puzzle he doesn’t always know what to do with, being— what, 25? 26? He’s not sure anymore— and then so suddenly a dad. Not to an infant, either, but a miraculous girl who is funny and kind and clever, and far too wise for her age. She sees him struggle with his place in all of this and just pats his hand sagely. His throat tightens with the shock of it, the wonder. 

Keith suggests she call him papa that very first night. Though Shiro still blanches at the thought of _taking_ anything from Keith, something in Keith’s gaze and Ori’s answering trill of delight as she launches into Shiro’s lap make him trust that he can have this. That he’s wanted like this. 

"Papa!" she giggles and tosses her hair like this is a great new game.

So he lets it come, every beautiful wave of it, and accepts all the times that the tumult of parenthood knocks him off his feet.

It’s not like that with Keith, not at all. 

If having a beautiful daughter is astonishing, disorienting, then settling into life with Keith by his side is the other side of that coin: easy, grounding, _right._ And somehow not surprising at all.

Keith fits like a piece of his heart, like it was always meant to be this way. 

It’s domestic, really, and not in a way Shiro dislikes. They run errands together, as soon as Keith picks up some shoes Shiro can wear. They go shopping. Shiro tries to get a handle on what Keith’s picking out from the market. There are strange-looking vegetables and tins with labels he can’t read at all. Keith is patient, helping Shiro identify things he might need to pick up on his own: Keith’s favorite coffee substitute, staple foods, treats that the wolf particularly likes, Ori’s favorite munchies— and which ones are reasonably healthy for her, too. Shiro doesn't ask for that information, this is just... Keith, now that he has someone he has to look after. Responsible, protective.

There’s a Galran holiday fast approaching, which Shiro quickly learns because it’s an occasion for hanging lanterns and fabric streamers in bright colors that blow in the wind. It’s already quite a sight, with more to come as preparations continue. Shiro pauses on the corner outside the market awning to admire the decorated lane.

There will be a parade in a couple of quintants, Ori explains. It’s her favorite part of the festival. A hushed whisper from Keith adds that it’s a gift-giving holiday, too, but that he doesn’t need to worry about it. He has some things picked out for Ori already.

“I’m not gonna miss my first opportunity to spoil her, Keith,” Shiro whispers, his eyes glittering with mischief. 

Color blooms on Keith’s face as he smiles, warming Shiro all the way through.

It hasn’t even been a week, and Shiro’s sure he wants this for the rest of his life.

Did he feel this way before, with Keith ten years younger? Yes, he realizes he did. He’d denied it, pushed it down. He wanted to let Keith grow up— and now he has.

Grown-up Keith _does_ things to Shiro.

As soon as he admitted as much to himself, it was all he could do to clamp his jaw shut to prevent anything moony or just plain thirsty falling from his lips that very moment.

To be fair, Shiro thinks it's not _entirely_ unprovoked.

Keith’s tight black leggings were certainly provoking. He wore them almost daily, made of something shiny like leather but somehow softer to the touch. Shiro found himself deeply appreciating Daibazaal fashion as he clung to Keith’s hips riding the hoverbike into town, pressed flush against Keith’s backside.

Those particular details were keeping Shiro awake at night. But then, everything else Keith did just made his heart whir in that besotted way that told him he was hooked.

Like Keith standing at the window, quietly admiring the mid-morning rain.

Keith sitting in the kitchen with Ori, quizzing her about her lessons after bringing her home from her tiny local school.

Keith mopping his face with a towel after the wolf got it in his head to shower Keith in sloppy wolf kisses until his bangs are defying gravity. It's absurdly cute.

Keith’s so-dark eyes every time he meets Shiro’s gaze. He never looks away first.

Keith with his light touches to Shiro’s arm or hand or knee, quick and fond and so natural between them.

Keith’s voice in the early morning, rough from sleep, when Shiro brings him his so-called coffee.

This might be his favorite of all.

Shiro is still sleeping on the mattress in the main room, but he finds that Keith will let him come in in the early hours so long as he has a steaming cup of caffeine to offer. He finds a still sleep-rumpled Keith who claims to hate everything about mornings, but doesn’t have the heart to shoo Shiro away.

After being so bold as to try it once, it becomes a routine of theirs. 

Shiro sits against the headboard and sips his own cup until Keith eventually claws himself upright, seated close by Shiro’s side to accept his matching mug with a huff that Shiro decides is contentment. They’ll sit talking like this, Keith snorting at Shiro’s absurd morning cheerfulness and equally absurd sense of humor. Shiro smiles so fondly that his cheeks are hurting long before Keith’s expression reads as anything resembling awake.

The time passes too quickly and Shiro finds he can’t wait to come bother Keith the following morning. And the morning after. He cherishes it.

Keith tips his head onto Shiro’s shoulder once, and it’s only natural for Shiro to reach up and stroke his fingers through Keith’s hair. He does it before he realizes and it's silky between his flesh fingers, the feeling thrilling through him.

It’s only a moment, but by the time he catches himself it’s far too late. The gesture is clearly too much, too _intimate._ Shiro contemplates a hasty retreat, but the thought vanishes as Keith makes a small, heady sound.

It’s so arresting, Shiro grazes his fingertips over Keith’s scalp again just to make him repeat it. He’s not disappointed.

“F-feels good,” Keith groans, exhaling heavily at the lingering touch. Shiro wonders if Keith can hear his pulse racing. 

“Yeah?” Shiro croaks. Keith nods and nuzzles his shoulder. “Well that’s good.”

Keith hums. “Don’t stop, okay?”

It's the most sinful thing he's ever heard from Keith's mouth.

Shiro swallows carefully.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Sheithmas! 🎄🦌✨

Shiro quietly cracks the door open to Keith’s room at the usual time. Mugs in hand, he’s fully expecting to find his best friend starfished on the bed, beautifully mussed with his legs tangled in the sheets, like he has every day this movement.

Instead, Keith almost bumps into him at the door.

“Oh,” Shiro startles a little, stepping back. “You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Keith looks down, “just gonna shower. Be right out.”

“Is everything okay?” Shiro knows the answer already, but he needs it from Keith. Every line of the man’s body screams tension, his expression drawn.

Keith’s eyes dart nervously, anywhere but where they would meet his. The knot of worry in Shiro’s stomach tightens further.

Shiro wonders, _Have I crossed a line? It must’ve been yesterday morning, the hair petting. Does he feel awkward about that now?_

He’s so afraid he’s messed up a good thing.

“I’m okay, Shiro, I just,” Keith rubs the nape of his neck before briefly meeting Shiro’s gaze, “I had a dream about the black lion. Maybe more than a dream.”

Shiro feels his eyes widen.

“I need to talk to the paladins— already sent a message to them. I’ll be quick,” he mutters, slinking to the washroom without another word.

Shiro knows Keith will tell him, soon. He can practice patience. And he’s admittedly relieved that Keith doesn’t seem to be thinking thoughts about hair petting while he frowns at the floor.

Looking down at the mugs he’s carrying, he realizes with some regret that _this_ is what is bothering him now, of all things. It’s stupid, it’s not a big deal. He shouldn’t be disappointed.

“Your coffee’ll be on the counter,” Shiro says as he turns, putting extra effort into the smile in his voice. Keith doesn’t need Shiro’s moping right now.

Keith’s voice is tentative, soft. “I— okay. Thank you, Shiro.” The way he says his name soothes like honey and promises they'll be alright.

Shiro places Keith’s mug where he promised, then pads back down the hall to check on Ori. She doesn’t stir right away as he opens the door and leans against the doorframe. 

She’s softly aglow with quintessence as she sleeps. It’s like this every night; what was at first an alarming sight has quickly become familiar, comforting in a bone-deep way.

But truly, the first time Shiro saw it, he froze in fear. Keith was quick to assure him it’s perfectly normal— for her, at least.

“Is she— _taking_ quintessence? Like, from others?”

He didn’t want to ask that, but he had to know. The horror of the komar was fresh in Shiro’s mind, chilling him to the core.

Keith simply nodded his head toward the plants lining the windowsill. They’re everywhere in the house, a dense perimeter of greenery. Shiro found it odd initially. Was Keith ever a plant person before? He remembered him preferring the drama and angles of dusty deserts to the jungle worlds they sometimes encountered as defenders of the universe.

“More like sharing quintessence,” Keith told him. “You should see the way things bloom with her near.”

Shiro watches from the door as the hazy blue glow thins and fades, until she looks like just a girl. _His little girl._

She blinks open her eyes and searches for his. She always knows when there’s someone near.

“Daddy’s upset, isn’t he,” she murmurs. It’s not a question, not really.

Shiro’s smile goes reedy and thin as he walks to her bedside. “Yes he is, pumpkin. But we’re gonna take care of that,” he brushes his human fingers through her hair as he sits by her side.

“Worries you’ll leave again,” she whispers. “Can you promise him you won’t?”

Shiro blinks down at her, shocked. It’s more than just a passing thought, a worry that Shiro should ease away. That's not how it is with Ori. She _knows_ something. 

“But sweetheart, why would I go anywhere else?”

She picks at the fringe on her blanket, eyeing the window where dawn is slowly painting the landscape in purple-red hues.

“To fix the past.”

~ * ~

Sometimes daddy asks her to ride in the blue lion for a while. That way she can practice moving energies with Princess Allura.

Princess calls it quintessence. The word tickles her tongue.

Each time Kosmo takes her back to daddy, she’s so tired from learning and practicing. But she likes it, also. She’s starting to understand what it means, to have this magic that is special to people like her.

There are more things that can be done with energies than Ori imagined. If she’s patient and careful, she can mold it with her mind— ask things to grow, feel the shape of things unseen, perceive the truth.

There’s also a darker side to energies.

“One must always create, never destroy,” Princess says softly at her ear. It’s kind and it’s sad. Ori senses that it hurts her to say this. “Can you promise me that?”

Ori nods her head. “Promise.”

Sitting in Princess’ lap in the cockpit, she remembers her lessons. Be generous. Think of others. Give what you can, take only what you need. Be honest, above all else. 

So when Ori feels her grief and betrayal, feels the shape of that pain almost as easy as breathing, she must be honest.

“You hurt,” she says, “can feel it. I’m like the one who hurt you?”

Princess inhales sharply. Ori hopes her words sound right. She's still learning that, too.

“No, darling one,” Princess soothes. “You are not alike at all,” she exhales. “Only… your power _can_ hurt. As can mine, if I let it. It requires great care, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Ori says solemnly. “That’s why we practice?”

Princess smiles. “Yes, that is why we will practice together.”

~ * ~

“That’s when I realized I’d heard Black roar.”

Keith frowns as he says it. Pidge and Allura’s holos glow in front of them in the semi-dark of Keith’s control room. Lance peers over Allura’s shoulder in pajamas, just back from getting the twins their breakfast; Hunk is delayed by a particle storm but promised to call soon.

“The lions?! When?” Lance’s jaw hangs loose at the hinge.

“Right before we found Shiro.”

“And you never thought to mention that before?” Pidge chides, eyebrow raised.

Keith doesn’t rise to it. “I hardly remember anything from that whole day. Aside from finding Shiro half-dead on the beach.”

“Understandable,” Allura says quietly, Pidge looking almost abashed.

Hunk’s feed drops into the group call then, his eyes blowing wide presumably as he takes in the sight of Shiro standing at Keith’s elbow. 

“Shiro! My god, man, it’s SO so good to see you— I can hardly believe my eyes,” he shakes himself. Everyone smiles their agreement. “And also, how dare you! Staying all young and beautiful while the rest of us whither away into old age?” Hunk’s laugh is easy, contagious.

Shiro grins, ignoring the way the attention heats his face. It’s absurd for Hunk to say it, considering what a handsome bunch the paladins are in general, even more so for having deca-phoebs to grow into themselves. Hunk himself cuts a figure like a Samoan god even in his green and orange civilian flight suit, traversing galaxies for his craft. Healthy and happy, his smile alone will knock you for six.

“Anyway,” Keith’s voice croaks, and it thrills through Shiro to think he might be the tiniest bit flustered by Hunk’s remark.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Hunk winces, “so what’d I miss?”

Keith describes again his strange dream, starting with seeing through the black lion’s eyes for the first time since the war’s end. That, more than anything else, has Keith thinking it probably isn’t just a dream. The bond, that connection— there’s nothing else like it.

First he saw Voltron breaking apart from the force of destroying Zarkon’s mech, but he’d never seen it like this. Keith was Red’s pilot then, hadn’t known the pain of that moment for Black or her paladin. But instead of going dark as he remembers she had, Keith felt Black growl low in warning as she made for the Castle of Lions with the others at her heels.

Then Keith caught glimpses of his younger self meeting Shiro in the hangar, peering strangely down on them from above.

“Shiro was saying _it worked_ and crushing me in a hug, and I saw the look on my face. Like, totally at a loss.” Keith turns to Shiro. “I thought you meant beating Zarkon. Of course I was relieved, too, that the fight was over and you were okay. But… to me it was like you’d never gone missing.”

Hunk’s expression twists into something both hopeful and sad. “If only,” he says, cutting himself off with a shake of the head.

“Let’s get back to the part where Black roared at you a _month_ ago,” Pidge suggests flatly. “The rest could be just a dream, Keith. I can’t work with dreams. But if you really heard the black lion—”

“I did,” Keith interjects. “I’d forgotten, but I’m sure of it. Ori and I were going the other direction from the house, heading down to the tide pools. If I hadn’t heard Black roar, I wouldn’t have turned around and seen- I might not have found him...”

When Keith falls silent, Shiro knows it’s with a heavy heart. He hopes the others can’t see when he presses his palm to Keith’s back to comfort him.

“Alright,” Allura says calmly, “and what do you think it means, Keith?”

“Don’t know,” Keith frowns, but he leans into Shiro’s hand and that at least is something. “It- it’s crazy, but… it feels like she was bringing him to me. Like she’s the reason he’s here. Is that even possible?”

Allura nods. “I think we understand very little of what the lions are capable of. If she feared for her paladin’s life, I think a great deal is possible.”

Pidge scrunches up her nose. “Magic will be the death of me, I swear,” she huffs, “but I think Allura’s right. If the lions are involved, who knows?”

“And I thought the lions were really gone all this time,” Lance sighs. He’s voicing it for all of them— there’s not one paladin who doesn’t ache from the hole the lions’ sacrifice left in their hearts. What if they’re still out there after all?

“And have you asked Ori about this?” Allura inclines her head slightly.

“I—” Keith hesitates. “I will. I just don’t want her to worry.”

Allura’s mouth curves in a small, sympathetic smile. “You know as well as I do that your daughter already knows, already worries. It helps more for you to talk with her about it. And in a case like this, she may know more than anyone else.”

Keith sighs. “You’re right, of course. Thanks, Princess. We’ll talk to her.”

_We._

Shiro thinks he shouldn’t yearn so much to hear him say that, but he does.

~ * ~

Keith asks Ori to put on her boots because it’s raining.

“But I like my slippers!”

“Shiori,” he crosses his arms, “it’s colder today than it looks.”

“No it’s not,” she whines in reply.

“Hey,” Keith crouches to face her, “I agreed to the leggings, didn’t I? But not the ballet slippers. That’s because we need your feet warm and dry after walking so we can go right to the store. I can’t have you getting sick just because I let you get cold wearing slippers in the rain.”

She pouts her lip, but nods, reaching for the boots with exaggerated weariness.

“See, that wasn’t so hard. And you know what? With your boots on, we can go see the tide pools—”

“Oh! Can we really?”

“Can’t do that in slippers, now can we?” He taps her nose and she squirms. Then he’s chasing a giggling girl down the porch steps and around the back of the house to beach. It's a dramatic sight in the early morning light, the stormy skies only adding to it.

Ori knows the way, practically skipping now as they reach the edge of still-wet sand at low tide. She turns left to follow the waves down to the rocky shelf where the tide pulls away just enough to expose the sea’s wonders from the safety of solid ground.

They’ve just started that way when it hits him— a call he hasn’t heard in a long time. A roar.

Keith turns at the sound, jarred by the feeling, the pull of it. _It couldn’t be, could it? The lions are long gone._

There’s something in the distance, a dark line in the sand.

Keith takes off toward it. He’s forgotten what he was doing before. Then he hears his girl run up behind him, calling after him. “Daddy?”

Close enough now to know it’s a body, very still. Most likely the poor bastard is already dead.

“Stay here, Ori,” he warns. His throat is parched, his pulse elevated.

Something about that slumped form has Keith’s heart in his throat.

“Oh!” she startles as she sees it, too, then takes a couple steps more. “He’s sleeping—”

“—I don’t know about that,” Keith grabs her shoulder a bit sharply to halt her. “I need you to stay right here, Ori. This is serious. It could be dangerous, or upsetting.”

Ori’s eyes are a storm all her own, but she nods and stays.

Keith hurries to the figure, it's back turned. A man, large and well-formed in a familiar bodysuit, dark hair cut close at the nape. Dread sinks into the pit of Keith’s stomach. He refuses to hope for the impossible.

But he’s running anyway.

Keith rounds the man’s feet in a burst of speed. He has to see his face, first— before getting too close. He knows there are things you can’t ever unsee. _What if he’s dead._

“No, no—”

By the time the familiar shock of white hair and Galran arm come into view, so does Shiro’s ageless face. His brow furrows in a grimace of pain, but he’s alive— he’s breathing slow and labored in Keith’s arms as he scoops him up and hears a soft groan fall from his lips.

“Shiro, please,” his voice shakes, “just hang on, I’ve got you.”

Ori’s there but she’s alright, steady beside him as he carries Shiro in the direction of home. His pulse is leaden; Keith feels every beat of it. Then the wolf is there, taking them the rest of the way in a flash.

“Ori, towels please,” Keith calls as he lays Shiro on his bed over the covers. He’s cold enough to be cautious of warming him too quickly— get him dry, check for injuries, wrap him up.

Keith does all this, letting instinct carry him when he’s too terrified to think. It’s clinical, necessary, and there are no surprises. He’s bruised, dehydrated and _cold._ Keith can work with that. He wishes he could wrap more of Shiro’s body in his own warmth, but the wet suit and towels have been swapped for blankets and bare skin, and Shiro has warmed enough to start shivering beneath him. It’s the first good sign.

It sneaks in when Keith’s not ready, that persistent gnawing hope. That this could really be Shiro, _his_ Shiro. That he could be here and safe after everything.

Keith’s crying. Has been, he realizes, crying quietly against Shiro’s neck where he’s tucked himself close. The warmth is for Shiro but the comfort is probably for himself.

_Alive, alive, alive._

“He’ll be okay,” Ori says gently, standing by the bed, “I know it.”

Were it anyone else, it’d be a platitude— false hope that he knows won’t hold his weight. Years of social services taught him to resent empty promises.

But his daughter channels mysteries, knows things she can’t have guessed. He hopes this can be one.

Keith reaches for her, scoops her close with one free arm while he still clings to Shiro’s frame. Keith shudders as he sobs, feeling Shiro's heart beating steadily beneath him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispers.

~ * ~

“Keith.”

He’s met with silence. 

“Keith, please,” Shiro’s voice sounds more calm than he feels. “Talk to me.”

He watches as Keith shifts on his feet, turning slowly from the windows to face him. Morning light curves over Keith’s face and he’s on fire. And Shiro is, too, feeling how Keith’s eyes graze over him slowly until their eyes meet.

“What if I hadn’t found you?”

“But you did, Keith, you— you always do,” he reaches for him. He’s not thinking, it’s instinct.

“That’s not true, Shiro,” Keith growls. “For ten years I didn’t find you.”

Guilt stabs him, not for the first time. Keith was hurting that whole time. Shiro knows it’s not his _fault_ , but it feels all wrong. Like he should have _been_ there. Helping carry the burden, defending the universe, putting an end to age-old tyranny.

Being a friend. Being _more_ than a friend.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs as he holds Keith’s face between his two hands. “I’m right here.”

Keith’s lips part softly in surprise, breath ghosting over Shiro’s chin. It’s arresting. Unmistakably, Keith’s eyes trace Shiro’s lips, heavy-lidded and slow.

“Tell me to stop,” Shiro whispers, leaning in. Keith’s eyes are molten. 

“Never,” he gasps out.

It’s a soft brush of lips, careful, reverent. He feels Keith tremble, precious between his hands. The kiss hangs in the air.

It’s Keith’s bitten-off moan that moves him, has him deepening the kiss and sliding his fingers into Keith’s hair. Strong hands make fists in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in, pulling him under. 

Kissing Keith is like nothing else. 

“Shi-ro,” Keith stutters between tangled lips and teeth and tongue. Shiro licks greedily into his mouth as heat singes through him. Keith is a live wire.

They topple onto Shiro’s mattress right there. Keith uses his momentum to roll them until he's straddling Shiro’s thighs, capturing Shiro’s mouth in another messy kiss as he drops his weight onto Shiro’s broad chest.

A small, surprised sound escapes Shiro’s lips. He’s aching for Keith to move against him, but just as eager to see where Keith wants to lead.

Keith levels a stare down at him. “Say you want this, Shiro,” he growls. “I have to know.”

“I want you, Keith,” he says, “more than anything.”

The confession leaves him raw, but he’s safe with Keith. And he wants Keith to know how he makes him feel— he deserves that. Keith’s smile opens like the sunrise as Shiro’s grip finds his hips.

“Let me take care of you,” Keith says against his mouth, teeth grazing his kiss-swollen lips.

Shiro blinks. “We can take care of each other,” he says softly. He’s not sure he understands. 

“I know we _can,_ Shiro— but what I _want_ is for you to let me take care of _you._ Make you feel so good,” Keith catches Shiro’s mouth in another dirty kiss as he rolls his hips down, rewarding Shiro with the friction he craves. Shiro sees white.

“Ngh— yes! Anything, Keith,” he hears himself moan, a needy, undignified sound that urges Keith on. “Anything you want— show me.”

Keith rumbles approvingly.

~ * ~

Shiro has never been so wrecked in all his life.

Keith is singularly bent on mastering his body, his focus intense as he is in all things. He plays him like an instrument, plucks music from his lips that Shiro himself has never heard, hands strumming over corded muscle and releasing note after note of dizzy pleasure between them.

Shiro has long loved the sight of Keith following his passion, relished the unfolding of his many talents— as a pilot, a warrior, the leader Shiro always knew he could be. A friend, a father.

Keith in action is a wonder to behold, but this— this might be his undoing. There’s no coming back from this. Not that he wants to go back; he wants to stay right here, smothered in Keith’s whipcord body and his _hands_ until the heat death of the universe.

And his _mouth._ What Keith can do with his mouth should be illegal— might be in some jurisdictions. More than once Shiro begs, panting, for a moment to steady himself. He’s not ready for this to be over so quickly.

Keith pulls him back from the edge with soft, teasing touches. He won’t let this be over, not a chance, but he doesn’t mind Shiro pleading as a wicked smile curves his lips.

The respite is brief, and Shiro’s glad of that; he’s never been touched like this, handled like this. He wants it to keep coming. If that’s selfish, he’s forgotten— Keith’s worshipful touch has him molten with want.

Shiro has wondered how Keith spent ten years making a life for himself and his daughter, meeting so many people across the universe, and still no one has worked their way into Keith’s heart. No partner, no lover? Keith already told him there’s been no one, not _really._ Shiro can’t grasp how it’s possible.

Not that he hasn’t shared his bed. It’s very clear that he _has,_ in fact, if judging only by the way he moves against him, strong and sure of what he wants.

Opening to Keith’s tongue is a revelation. All he can hear is his blood coursing and Keith’s name falling from his lips like a benediction.

Keith, _Keith._ Keith—

He’s seeing stars again, but Keith seems to know. He pulls back, nipping at his thigh with sharp teeth as Shiro slumps forward catching a moment of breath.

“God, Shiro,” Keith breathes a laugh bent over his back, “all the ways I want you. _Have_ wanted you,” he murmurs, petting his hands up over Shiro’s ribs. 

Shiro’s heart squeezes. “Oh yeah?” He’s turning, seeking Keith’s mouth, pulling him down into his arms.

“Yeah,” Keith nuzzles their noses together. He slides so easily from wrecking him to grazing his heart with fond touches.

“You have me,” Shiro says with a smile that is wry enough to mask how those words make him _feel._ Keith keens as his fingers carve along the hollow of his hipbones. “What will you do now?”

He freezes for a moment, brief enough that Shiro hardly has time to search his face for what it means— then he’s kissing Shiro hot and hard, holding him down, rolling their hips together smoothly. That one kiss has Shiro breathless like they never paused, already aching.

“Please, Keith,” he whispers.

Keith looks resplendent with his bed-mussed hair as he hooks Shiro’s ankles up by his ears and folds the larger man’s knees to his chest.

“I’ve got you, big guy,” Keith soothes, sucking a mark on Shiro’s calf. Then he’s sliding home, shuddering as he goes, and Shiro feels everything at once. Heat, fullness, stretch, maddening want.

“Hang onto me,” Keith murmurs as he starts to move, his voice punched-out and half gone already. Shiro hangs onto Keith’s shoulders and lets Keith carry him away.

~ * ~

Sunset light flares in Ori’s hair as she darts down the stairs of the building where she goes to school. Her yellow stuffie, Airiko, dangles from where he’s tucked under her arm, a tablet in her other hand.

Developmental stages of a half-alien child is a topic that will require further study, Shiro thinks, but he’s tickled by her youthful impulses. She both grew up fast, and didn’t— shouldered the fate of worlds, and hadn’t. Keith makes sure she gets to play like any other child.

She launches herself into Keith’s arms, with cries of “Daddy! We saw the chrysalises open today! Wanna show you- can I, tomorrow?”

“Okay, angel,” Keith laughs, “and let’s put your pad away so it doesn’t get broken.” 

Ori almost rolls her eyes. It’s a near thing. Shiro can’t help but be endeared by the ripples of minor rebellion. She’ll be a teenager in no time— if that even works the same. So many questions, but there will be time to answer them.

Keith stands and fits his hand back into Shiro’s, like it never left, with Ori’s small, gloved hand clasped in his other. Shiro watches, frozen, as Ori’s eyes follow the movement, studying the way their fingers lace together. He forgets to breathe.

Ori turns her face up to his as she smiles. “Papa,” she says warmly, “it’s your first winter festival. Ready?” She extends her hand to his free hand.

Shiro thumbs over her knuckle as he takes her small hand in his human one, so tender and alive. He smiles down at his daughter’s face.

“I am now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all won't mind a little plot progress here. I promise more sweet sheiths throughout. ;)

“Wanna ride with Allura again today?”

Daddy’s asking from the pilot seat while she’s munching her breakfast. She nods. She’s been learning a lot from Allura, and when Coran’s nearby she can touch the energy of the crystal— it’s her favorite.

It speaks a language all it’s own, one she’s trying to learn. She tells daddy this.

“Wh- what did you say?”

“The crystal, it has memories. Like dreams. I’m listening so I can learn,” she munches another bite of space cereal.

He stays very quiet, then activates his comm. “Allura, is Coran there?”

“He’s right here— what is it, Keith?” Coran’s face comes into focus over her shoulder as Ori crawls into her dad’s lap.

“Um- well, did you know Ori’s been _communicating_ with the infinite mass crystal?”

“The crystal from the Castle of Lions?” Coran jerks back in shock, fumbling for the thing under his tunic. “No, I- I had no idea! Forgot I had the thing at all.”

“Ori,” Allura addresses her through the screen, “when did you discover this?”

Ori is dumbfounded by their reactions. “You don’t hear it, Princess? But it gets so loud.”

“No, darling. I don’t have the same gifts as you have,” Allura’s laugh is tense. “And what does the crystal say?”

“Dunno exactly. It’s all jumbled up like dreams. But I’m practicing.”

“Keith,” Allura’s eyes are very serious. “I admit I don’t know what this means. But I think we should allow her access to the crystal. She can hang onto it, for safekeeping. Whatever she discovers, it could be important. And it could offer her some much-needed protection in the meantime.”

Ori relaxes a bit, figuring she’s not actually in trouble after all.

“Protection, princess?” Coran sounds confused.

“Yes. I told you how she… shielded herself, when we were jostled unexpectedly in the asteroid field?”

Keith’s grip on her knee tightens unhappily. “Yeah, she was exhausted for days.” Okay, maybe she _is_ in trouble.

“Exactly. Ori can protect herself from harm, but it’s too draining. Quintessence isn’t created, it must be moved from place to place. She knows not to draw on any other being, so when she’s scared she draws on herself.”

Ori feels her dad’s heart beating louder. He’s not mad, she realizes. He’s worried. 

“The crystal is a significant source of power,” Princess continues, “far more than she’ll ever need. But it’s what we have at the moment. And if she has it with her at all times, she won’t need to draw on any other source in a time of need.”

Keith is silent, then nods. “Well, the wolf can’t teleport infinite mass, so we’ll have to move it when we land. For now, she’s ready to come to you. And… thank you, Allura, for trusting her.”

Blue eyes sparkle in reply. “Oh, I think she’s earned it.”

~ * ~

What started as a freak energy storm became a truly harrowing time lost in space, with nothing but their paladin armor shielding them from the endless vacuum.

The lions were silent in their minds.

They were running out of air.

Varga after varga of emptiness was definitely getting to all of them. 

Keith snapped at the team, lashed out viciously— and at Hunk, especially. There was probably a special spot in hell for someone who would take their fear and anger out on Hunk. 

It was easier to be cruel, to pretend it was all anyone expected of him anyway. Shiro was the only one who ever believed Keith was worth a damn… wasn’t he?

But while they were drifting, waiting for life support failure or for something a bit more spectacular to come along to kill them, Keith had too much time to contemplate the pain in his chest. Call it space madness, or paying last respects— he did something he never thought he’d do.

Keith started talking.

About losing Shiro. About what it meant to be without him. Bereft of the only person he’d ever loved, unable to accept that this wasn’t going to change.

The paladins _knew,_ of course. But hearing it from Keith at the end of his rope was something else entirely.

“I’m s-sorry guys,” his voice shook.

“No, Keith, c’mon man,” Lance spoke up. “You never have to apologize for how you feel. Not to us.”

“But- I do,” Keith insisted, “I owe you all an apology.”

“What are you talking about?” Pidge asked.

“It’s really fucked up, you know? How we all ended up out here fighting this war. I’ve certainly hated it my fair share of the time. But- I’ve never had anything like this. It’s like you’re all saying I can be part of this weird little family, and I won’t let myself. I keep waiting for someone to prove me right, once and for all, that I never mattered to anyone except Shiro. Never will belong like I did with Shiro.”

Because there was a lot about what Shiro was to him that he couldn’t parse into words without feeling they were ill-fitting— but that they _belonged_ with each other, Keith would never deny.

“But I think I could’ve belonged with you guys.”

Keith was overwhelmed with the thought that somewhere in this void he was leaving Ori behind, allowing her to perish in the dark just as she would have in the lab. She’d outlast all of them, surely, floating in the black lion with her infinite crystal and her quintessence shield engaged. She might even wake, eventually. But even if she could get herself out of this one, she’d be all alone in the universe. Again. 

He’d wanted to change her whole life. Could he not change _anything_ for her in the end?

That’s what finally did it. Keith cried.

Sobbing openly in his helmet, burning precious gulps of breathable air, the team gathered him up between them.

“We’ve got you, team leader,” Hunk said with feeling.

It wasn’t the end of their trial, but it was the start of healing.

~ * ~

The winter festival was lovely, and quite a production for a homely nowhere town. Citizens wore bright costumes and paraded in the streets under a high canopy of woven textiles and the warm light of thousands of colored lanterns. 

Ori’s eyes were wide as cantaloupes reflecting the warm light, and she was far from the only one. Kids out with their families stayed wide-eyed long after bedtimes while folks old and young danced into the night.

It took some getting used to, seeing the Galran people at home, at _peace,_ remembering that the Galra were never the enemy— the Empire was. The Emperor, and his followers, long gone now. New Daibazaal was a peaceful planet, welcoming settlers from other worlds, especially those who had lost their homes to the Empire.

Ten thousand years of tyranny, and people were this quick to forgive? No, Keith corrected. Those who came to Daibazaal to settle were exceptions, believers whose lives had been improved by the work of the Blades. With the Blades in power here, some saw it as a safe gamble. Better here than in a warlord’s territory.

Many, many others still feared the Galra, even hated them. It would be a long road to healing, rebuilding confidence, many long generations of work ahead of them. 

“I’m proud of you, Keith.” 

Shiro says it softly near his ear as their daughter darts amongst other children for trinkets being tossed in the air. 

“You’re a part of this. Ending the war, and helping the people rebuild. It’s incredible. And it suits you.”

Keith smiles at the praise, though Shiro notices it doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“I should’ve been here from the beginning. We didn’t belong on Earth.”

Shiro wants to ask more, but Ori is tugging on his leg.

“Papa! I can’t see the dancers anymore.”

It’s true; the street crowds with more and more onlookers as the dancers start twirling blue fire in the main lane.

It’s not hard to guess what she wants. Shiro may not be as tall as the Galra parents, but he’s not small, either. And he still has several inches on Keith. 

“C’mere,” he lifts her up to his shoulders while Keith smiles approvingly. 

“Upgrade,” Keith smirks. Shiro really wants to protest _that_ implication, but Ori is squealing with delight from her new vantage, the musicians have started another song, and everything else is lost to the wind.

~ * ~

Ori doesn’t trust the Garrison.

Sam Holt is okay, and Mr. Iverson, too. The pilots and staff, they’re good people. But the other leaders are cold, cynical, scared. They’re looking for an easy way out of this mess. They are terrified by this _super-weapon,_ this _Voltron,_ though they covet it all the same.

Most of them look at her dad like he’s a nobody, or worse— an idealist, the kind of dangerous fool who’ll get them all killed.

Sanda, Michelson, Steele. Other names she doesn’t remember with faces she won’t forget.

Daddy told her not to get angry on his account. They don’t know any better, he’s used to it. It’s fine. 

The paladins laid out a plan to call the lions to Earth and take out the bases all at once. It’s going better than expected, with Sam and Iverson’s support, but most of the Commanders are livid about it, stewing in silent frustration.

That’s when the hidden things start to scream for her attention.

Ori can’t make them out, not yet— not when they want those feelings hidden. But the more they school their faces and defer to the paladins’ superior knowledge of Galra tactics, the louder the _something_ gets.

But it’s not coming from them, she realizes. This warning, drowning everything else out, it’s coming from the crystal hanging against her chest.

“Dad,” she says. 

Keith turns, and the look on his face for a moment says _not now, angel._ She knows that look. But then he looks closer, his eyes widening. He goes to speak, but Coran beats him to it.

“That’s it! Why didn’t I think of this before! Black holes, infinite mass! It was always right there.”

Ori looks down to see the crystal is glowing through her tunic.

“Commander Holt,” Allura says, “you’re going to want to have a look at this.”

~ * ~

When at last their daughter is settled in her bed for the night, the wolf watching over her from his spot on the floor, Shiro follows Keith down the hall to his bedroom and Keith closes the door. 

Shiro can’t take his eyes off of him. The blush blooming on his face is almost shy. Like after everything they shared through the day, this, now, is the most intimate, the most vulnerable.

Shiro sits at the foot of the bed, his henley shirt unbuttoned, just looking.

Keith still stands near the door, observing him in return. He closes the distance slowly, his boldness from earlier nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he says.

Shiro feels the tug of a smile in answer. “Hey.”

Keith trails a finger along Shiro’s collarbone in the low light, up to his chin. “You, uh- don’t regret this, do you?”

Shiro balks. “No— Keith, how could you think that? Never—”

Keith steps closer, forcing Shiro to look up at him sharply. Shiro catches his scent, nose inches from his chest, and breathes deeply.

“I’m not saying it,” Keith’s grin tries to hide the fear in his eyes. “I just- wanted to be sure. No mistakes between us, okay?”

“Oh, I’ll make mistakes,” Shiro laughs softly. “Plenty. But you… you could never be a mistake.”

The kiss is heavy and sweet. Shiro crawls back onto the bed, tugging Keith along with him, turning him down into the sheets until it’s Shiro pressing heavily over the length of Keith’s body. Peering down, his eyes are dark pools of desire.

“This time, I’m taking care of you.”

“Okay, old timer,” Keith smirks. Shiro sputters.

“Brat,” he huffs a laugh against Keith’s mouth, biting his plump bottom lip as he rolls their hips together. Keith’s eyelids flutter, gripping Shiro’s hips hard as his breath hitches. Shiro feels victorious.

One item after another, he drops their clothing to the floor. Shiro takes his time, carving lines of pleasure into Keith’s body with his fingers and then his tongue.

He hears his name fall from Keith’s lips as he’s swallowing him down— breathed so softly he almost doesn’t catch it. He wants to make him say it again and again, to let the heat of it burn through him. He’s worshiping Keith’s body, feeling worshipped in return.

Shiro, _Shiro._ Shiro—

~ * ~

“The energy coming off this is incredible!”

Keith stands in the briefing room with Ori in his arms while Commander Holt takes readings from the small but mighty crystal. It isn’t glowing anymore, and Keith wonders at why it ever was.

After a bit of commotion and deflecting accusations that the paladins were hiding this option intentionally, Keith tries not to grind his teeth while Coran explains what they’re looking at.

“The crystal was created after the destruction of the Castle of Lions,” Coran says. “It’s an amalgamation of Altean magic and the quintessence field collapsing from infinite mass into this tiny thing.”

“Could it power the Atlas?” Sanda asks.

“Definitely!” Sam sounds delighted. “This is exactly the stroke of luck we needed. We’ll figure out how to get it hooked up to the Atlas immediately.”

“Good. If this works, we’ll finally have a real defense,” Sanda sneers. There’s no question what she’s implying— that the paladins and their _magical ships_ are a joke to her.

Sam makes eye contact with Ori. “May I?”

Ori squirms a bit. “I- I need to stay with it.”

Keith feels his stomach twist. He doesn’t like any option here; taking the crystal from his daughter, who he knows needs something to draw on to protect herself. Or positioning his daughter on the bridge of a Garrison warship, like hanging a target on her back.

“Angel, we can’t—” he stops when he feels Allura’s hand on his shoulder. It’s less and less of a shock each time, feeling that hand and knowing it isn’t his. But it still stops him in his tracks, makes him look at her.

“Actually,” Sam says quietly, “I’m sure we could use her help, Keith. If you’ll allow it. Your daughter is a very talented child.”

Keith’s mouth drops open, then closes with a snap. The fuck is he supposed to say to that? They’ve all been secretive about Ori, about the things she can do. Not even Sam would know, Pidge promised. But he is perceptive…

“Ori will be safest on the Atlas, Keith,” Allura says. It’s not enough to settle the issue, but it helps Keith steady himself.

“We’ll join you in a moment, Commander,” Keith grits out.

~ * ~

“I can’t do it, Allura.”

Keith backed himself up against the bulkhead as the Garrison corridor around them cleared after the briefing. Ori was in Hunk’s arms, all the paladins standing close enough to listen.

“Keith, let’s talk about this,” Allura murmurs, aware they are standing in a very public hallway.

“The Atlas?” he whisper-shouts back. “The flagship? It’s too dangerous! She might as well be riding with one of us, in a lion, while we face Sendak. Hell, that might be _safer_ for all we know.”

Lance speaks up. “Keith, we all know how you feel—”

“You do NOT know how I feel,” he growls. 

“Maybe not exactly,” Hunk says, “but we do know what it’s like to have your family in harm’s way.”

The silence is deafening. “Fuck.”

“How many languages can your daughter curse in by now?”

“Lonce, please,” Allura steps forward. “Keith, tell us what you’re most afraid of. Allow us to help, if we can.”

He looks at his girl, who’s watching him intently. “Anything could go wrong on that ship.”

“Anything could happen to this base, Keith,” Allura replies. “You know this. Sendak aims to destroy this planet if he can. I believe we will stop him, but I see no reason to believe Earth to be the safer option.”

Ori looks up to Hunk’s face, and Keith feels like absolute mud. Hunk’s family is in a _war camp_ and he has been stomaching his fear for their safety throughout all of this. And here Keith is coming unglued over putting his daughter on a highly fortified battleship?

Pidge takes a step forward. “My parents will be with the Atlas, along with Lance’s whole family. We’d put everyone we love there, if we could. Of course it’s still risky, but not more so than staying grounded.”

“You’re right,” Keith sighs, exasperated. “I know you are, I just—” he cuts himself off. He can’t figure out why he mistrusts the Garrison so much. It’s not the ship so much as the brass in charge of it. He doesn’t want her with them. He can’t say that out loud.

“Allura, if she goes with them,” he swallows, “once they take the crystal, what if she needs a shield? I can’t just leave her… unprotected like that. Will she still be able to draw on it?”

Allura touches his arm, and her smile is a gift. “I’m certain she could, honestly. But just in case she’s unable to, I think I know just the thing,” Allura reaches up and slides the tiara from her brow.

“No, Allura, it’s yours. You can’t—”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “It is mine, and so I most certainly can.” She barely suppresses her smile. Turning, she bends the metal easily and fits the tiara onto Ori’s small head. Ori’s eyes blow wide as moons as she looks up at Allura.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Does this make me a princess?”

Allura laughs. “Oh, you’re already a princess to me.”

~ * ~

Shiro walks quickly with Ori clinging to his shoulders. Her feet are soaked in a tiny pair of satin shoes, and Shiro feels a bit mortified as she sneezes.

“Shouldn’t’ve let you wear those shoes, sugar bean. Daddy’s away _one day_ and he’s gonna murder me when you catch a cold.”

Keith jetted off with the wolf before dawn. Although publicly a humanitarian organization these days, the Blade of Marmora would always be a spy ring at heart— and Keith had a transmission he needed to crack. Pidge relayed the encrypted file from Earth in the middle of the night, along with a brief message that she would be out of contact for awhile.

_“Don’t worry about me, or my family,”_ her voice crackled over the hasty recording, _“we’re getting out. I’ll be in touch.”_

Shiro’s head spun as Keith flicked off the transmission and slid into his Blades gear with incredible speed. “I’ve gotta get to headquarters to decrypt this file. You watch Ori, keep her safe. I’ll be back midday. Oh and,” he tossed Shiro a small, cylindrical device, “keep this transmitter on you.”

“Keith— what are you running from?”

“The Garrison,” Keith said coldly as he slid his fingers into the wolf's fur. “What Pidge sent is a leak. A big one.”

Shiro feels Ori’s grip tighten in his hair as she shivers against his neck, sneezing again. Her tone is still petulant when she replies.

“Teacher says that’s n-not how colds work. That’s s-silly science,” she grumbles. Shiro can’t help but laugh, tense as he is.

“Easy for him to say, when he’s not here carrying a _popsicle_ girl. C’mere,” he slides her down from his shoulders into his arms where he hopes she’ll be warmer. “We’re almost home, and I’m picking the clothes for the rest of the day, got it kiddo?”

She sighs a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. And- and what’s a popsicle?”

“It’s an Earth treat. Frozen fruit water.”

Shiro wonders at the state Earth must’ve been in for the years she was there. The Galra occupation devastated much of the planet— life as he knew it there was utterly changed, transformed as they worked to rebuild with the help of Voltron and Coalition allies. 

Maybe they didn’t have sweet treats to give to little girls on a hot day? Hard to know. He’d missed so much. It hurt every time he thought about it.

Ori sneezes. “So… like an iced cream? I’ve had an iced cream before,” she proclaims proudly as he pulls open their front door. He winces into her hair as he pries off two soaked slippers, enclosing both of her small, cold feet in the grip of his one human hand.

“Less like ice cream; more like these frozen monsters right here,” he teases, but he can’t hide the tension in his shoulders. “I’m running you a bath—”

“But I already washed this morning!”

“Doesn’t matter, bean. I let you get too cold and we’re not going anywhere til we fix that.” He sets her down on the rug in the washroom and turns the facet on, fumbling for a towel her size in the cabinet.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to school today.”

Shiro slows his movement and looks at her. She’s standing very still and it makes his heart race.

“Is there something wrong at school, sweetie?”

“N-no. But daddy thinks trouble’s looking for me.”

Shiro pulls her into a hug. “You felt all that this morning, huh,” he whispers. She nods. “Good thing you’re the bravest kid I know,” he murmurs into her ear, “because those are scary things to have to think about. But we’re not gonna let anything happen to you.”

She pulls back to look at him.

“I promise.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much going on in here, hang on for a wild ride! ^_^

Keith watches as Ori lifts the crystal from around her neck to place it in Sam’s waiting hand. They are standing on the bridge, with more onlookers than the bridge would usually hold.

Sam has the crystal chamber open and waiting.

“This is where I had originally planned to place a Balmeran crystal. We’re going to have to figure out some way to accommodate for the difference in size. It will take a feat of engineering to—”

But rather than settling into his hand, the crystal starts to glow. For a moment it’s suspended in air, before flying straight into the compartment in a brilliant flash of light.

Keith’s heart almost stops, pulling Ori close to shield her from- whatever this is. But Ori is calm in his hands. When he blinks his eyes open, she’s gazing at the crystal in it’s housing and smiling.

“I can’t believe it,” Sam gasps. “It’s amazing!”

“Subsystems fully powered, Sir!” Veronica calls from her post. There are cheers all around.

“Get this ship in the air, Commander,” Sanda says to Sam, “This is your command now. Bring on whatever personal you need. You have one hour to launch.” Sam salutes her in response.

Sanda turns to the paladins. “When the Atlas is ready to launch, we’ll proceed with your coordinated attack. Dismissed.”

Sanda’s footfalls are heavy as she walks off the bridge trailed by several other Commanders, all frowning decidedly _less_ than they were before. Keith isn’t sure whether the frowning or its absence is more unsettling.

He bends a knee in front of Ori. She starts fidgeting with loose pieces of his hair instead of meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he says quietly, thumbing over her cheek. “Are you ready to fly with Commander Holt for a while?”

“Please, call me Sam,” he calls over to them with a smile.

She nods, still finger-combing the more defiant strands around Keith’s face. It seems to center her, and there’s frankly very little he won’t agree to if it brings her some peace. 

“Daddy,” she whispers, and there’s a note in her voice that prickles his senses with worry. He leans in very close with the pretense of an encompassing hug. Her voice is light as a feather in his ear.

“A’meral Sanda’s hiding something.”

Ah, that. “Any ideas?” he breathes at her ear in reply.

“Nh-gh,” she shakes her head. “Be careful.”

Keith pulls back and looks at her. “I will be, moonbeam,” he kisses her cheek, too, because it makes her blush and that’s worth everything. “And you be careful, too.”

~ * ~

_Keep it together, Takashi._

He reaches for some insulated leggings that look warmer than most, digging in another drawer for a top and then, hopefully, a warm sweater. Which he can’t find.

You’d think he’d know how to dress his own daughter. To be fair, it hasn’t been two weeks, and he’s never needed to before.

A sweater emerges. He’s not sure if the colors match, red leggings and a gold knit top that’ll probably brush her knees, but does matching really matter?

Oh, and boots. Definitely the boots. Where are her socks?

Keith has been gone for 4 hours, tops, and Shiro is a mess.

Shiro knocks on the washroom door, finding Ori’s silver-white head of hair poking out of an enormous, Shiro-sized towel. It’s ridiculous but he can’t help but be pleased. At least she’s taking this getting-warm thing seriously. He hands her the clothes he gathered.

Ori eyes the handful suspiciously. He’s certain she’s about the make a sorrowful face, but her eyes flick up to her papa standing there sweating through his deodorant with worry, and her lips are sealed.

“Sorry- is something wrong?”

“Nope,” she pops the ‘p’ a bit loudly and he tries not to wither as she sifts through the mis-matched fabrics he gathered. “But, where are my unders?” And he’s blushing again. He really needs more deodorant.

“I’m not sure where things are, sweet pea. Will you show me?”

And so he trails after her, giant towel and all, without a word.

_She’s not a baby, Takashi._ She’s lived so many years without him around, and he’s here standing in for Keith, acting like he has anything to offer her? If he’d only been there…

He doesn’t protest when she switches the color of socks, either. Apparently sky blue is better than green?

“I’m not very good at this yet,” Shiro murmurs sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Don’ worry,” she giggles, turning around. It’s honestly a cute outfit. He’s not an utter failure.

She pulls her boots on in her bedroom because he brought them. They don’t really wear shoes in the house, but right now Shiro couldn’t care less. Clearly, neither could she. 

It’s past time for school, they’re already late— if he should be taking her at all under the circumstances. What will Keith say if he’s kept her home for no real reason besides not knowing what’s best? He needs more information, doesn’t have it. He should call the school.

“Everybody has to practice new things.” Of course she gives him grace. More than he gives himself.

Suddenly he has to know.

“How are you feeling about all of this?”

Her silver-dollar eyes meet his. “This? Mean you?”

He squirms. God, why did he ask. “Yeah, me. And your dad.”

She looks at him, very serious. “You’re my dad, too.”

“Just like that, huh?” He can’t help feeling just a bit incredulous. She stands from the floor and joins him sitting on her unmade bed.

“I feel like you need a hug,” she says quietly. “Can I?”

“Of course.” It’s all he can manage to say, pulling her in close. Fuck, he will not cry right now, what’s gotten into him? Never mind how it’s pointless putting on a brave front for an extremely empathic child— he asked because he wants to know how _she_ feels.

“I just want you to know you can talk to me,” he says, his voice rough, “and I’ll listen. I love you very much, and your dad is- he’s very important to me. I hope that’s okay, even though I- I haven’t been here all this time.” She hugs him tighter. “I wish I could have been.”

“Shiro,” she says calmly. It’s been a bit since he heard anything but ‘papa’ but talking like this is different. “Please stop wishing to go back. It was hard but… it just was.”

“I—” he starts, and stops.

“He thought of you every day,” she tells him. “But going back doesn’t help. Stay here now.”

Shiro looks at her, her eyes so like his own, and wonders what she knows. “I’ll try,” he says.

Ori’s mouth twitches into a frown before she can hide it. “Okay. Try.”

~ * ~

The Atlas is waking up.

Ori’s holding on to the railing while Sam goes over a launch checklist with his new bridge crew. It’s tedious, but there’s excitement in the air. Earth is mounting a defense, a formidable one. Sendak’s forces will be stopped. The air tastes like hope.

But Ori isn’t just in this room, not anymore. She feels so much _more,_ her senses stretching into corridors and cabins, hangers and crawlways, engine rooms and missile bays.

_Nice to meet you, Atlas,_ she greets.

There aren’t words in reply, just feelings. Memories. The Castle, her databanks spanning over ten thousand deca-phoebs, her star charts spanning the known universe. The Alteans who created her, all the lives lost. The lions, her cubs, finally home again. The new paladins, her fragile little family— all she has left.

The Castle has seen so much grief, with the loss of the people who made her, relied on her. So much loss yet so much hope. But she wasn’t awake then, not yet. It was just data, information. She perceived, she remembered, but she didn’t understand, didn’t know, didn’t _feel._

That was before. Before quintessence poured into her with crushing force. Before that spark of life was carried close to their hearts on a long journey. Before Ori started singing little songs to the crystal at night.

_You slept a long time,_ Ori thinks. _But so did I._

Combined with the simple AI of the Atlas’ hardware, the ship itself was coming to life. And Ori felt she already knew her, like an old friend.

She’s feeling Atlas close her bay doors— no, it’s one in particular. She feels the protective rumble of a mind bent on protecting her family.

Ori blinks, looks at her surroundings on the bridge. Sam is answering a call, Sanda is livid that doors just shut in her face, and what is this compartment anyway? Some kind of quarantine bay? Sam is sputtering, apologetic. He’ll get right on it.

_What are you trying to tell me?_ Ori asks. But then she’s patched in, she’s hearing Sanda and the others talking in hushed voices.

“We can’t make contact from here, it’s too risky.”

“We’re out of time. The Lions are our only bargaining chip.”

“But with the Atlas, don’t you think it could work?”

“It isn’t worth the risk! The citizens of Earth will suffer for it.”

“Well, Holt will have to find that override, or we’re not going anywhere, Admiral.”

Ori blinks, stunned. The betrayal burns, expected or not. Atlas grumbles in her mind, shutting more bolts. She won’t stand for it.

Sam is sweating bullets— is that the phrase? Ori asks if Atlas can send Sam the feed, privately. Sam is good, and brave, and the paladins are his family, too. He’ll know what to do.

~ * ~

They take Sendak’s forces by surprise. It’s a decisive victory, though hair-raising at times. No one asks about the Commanders that vanished into quarantine before the battle began; it’s a problem for another time.

Sam is not a captain like Allura or a pilot like Keith, but he’s passionate and focused and he trained for this, to use this ship to defend Earth. The crew works as a team, and with Voltron they turn the tide.

Until the mech arrives.

They haven’t had time to dust themselves off from beating the Galra before they are facing a new opponent, sleek and strange and terrible, somehow more vicious than the entirety of Sendak’s forces.

Ori feels something she hasn’t felt in a long time. There’s a sense to it, something druidic and dark, that reminds her of dreaming in the cold white place.

It isn’t until she feels Atlas worrying in her mind that she realizes she has summoned her shield. It’s instinct to fear something made of that dark magic. But she’s also embarrassed— she knows the shield is a secret that she needs to keep safe. The Princess told her how people fear power, resent it. Especially power they don’t understand.

_Darkness,_ Ori thinks wordlessly to Atlas. _The power to take and destroy._

Fierce, protective, aflame, Atlas responds with an image of mech larger than any Ori has seen or imagined. It’s her, it’s Atlas, if she’s needed. 

_We need you,_ she answers. _They need you. Please._

Sam is getting used to surprises, after all.

~ * ~

_“It’s a disruptor, Shiro.”_

Keith is breathing hard, running. The connection is audio-only from the handheld transponder Shiro held in his pocket since that morning.

_“Thing punches holes in particle barriers like the Blades have never seen.”_

“I don’t understand. I thought this was about Ori—”

_“Barrier technology is the closest around to what Ori can do with magic. They think it’ll punch through her shield, too.”_

“They’d blast a little girl with that thing?!” It’s not a question, not really. Shiro feels fire rolling off of him. “Who are these cowards?”

_“A well-resourced Garrison cell obsessed with transforming Atlas,”_ Keith curses bitterly. _“It wouldn’t injure her- in theory- just leave her defenseless. They want her in their custody to finish studying how she directs Atlas.”_

“Finish?”

A beat of silence, harsh breathing. _“Of course they studied her, Shiro. I let them, to a point. I figured the sooner they could glean something useful, make her replaceable, the better. Sooner we could leave.”_

Shiro tastes something sour at the word. _Replaceable_ is something she’d never be, but he knows what Keith means. She filled a function for the Garrison, nothing more.

_“Earth wants more than ‘a say’ in the universe’s affairs. It’s the same old shit— they want control. Sendak took that from them. Being part of a wider universe also took that from them.”_

Shiro exhales. He won't argue human nature— not with Keith, who's seen the worst of it as a rule.

"What do we do?"

_“We're en route now. Transmitting coordinates for our emergency transport. Locker's keyed to Ori's genes and mine— hell, might even register you,"_ he almost laughs before the humor fizzles and dies.

_"She’s been in storage a while, could be a little rough. Might need to fix her up before we go—”_

“We’re leaving?”

_“We have to, Shiro. I don’t know how long it’ll take them, but they have what they need. They’re coming.”_

~ * ~

The war was over. 

The threat of Honerva and her apostles was gone, but so were the lions. They all felt the loss, and the hope it instilled in others: many believed that the lions only left because they weren’t needed anymore.

Keith isn’t quite that optimistic.

Keith was there, felt all the lions brush against his soul when they said goodbye. Black especially. There was something restless in it, a charge to keep watch, to be ready. And then he thought- no, he _swore_ he heard him. That was Shiro’s voice, a shout folded into Black’s tremendous roar. It brought Keith to his knees.

All that, and then nothing. The emptiness that followed was cavernous and devastating.

But their reality was saved. Altea and Daibazaal materialized before their very eyes, sparkling and new. If Keith wished for one more miracle in that moment, he’d never admit to it.

Ori still had Atlas. They’d become excellent friends.

Keith felt called to the Blade of Marmora— to the work, to his mom’s side, to new constellations that promised a fresh start. Life had other plans. Instead he took up a post as a Blades liaison to the Garrison and the Atlas. He’d gotten used to it after a while, his daughter being the key to the Atlas’ transformation, the only being who could communicate with the ship’s consciousness and make it transform. Without her, Earth would be deprived of its flagship.

So he stayed. But there were problems from the start.

Keith wasn’t political, or diplomatic. He was blunt and sharp-edged and _honest,_ while also being a bit hostile toward authority at baseline. Leadership tended not to value those traits much.

Top Brass wanted to control more of his daughter’s education and her time than he would allow. She was a _child,_ he would remind them, not an officer— she hadn’t chosen this life. He would make sure she got to choose.

Keith knew he was skating on thin ice. Yet they’d fought so hard for this new lease on life, he and Ori, the paladins and their friends. They lost so much along the way— they deserved to live their lives. Keith didn't feel entitled to much, but this was one reward he would claim.

The Garrison needed to work out an alternative, though he’d give them time to do it. Keith could be patient, up to a point.

That just wasn’t good enough.

~ * ~

“Papa?”

“Here, pack a bag for me, okay? Quickly,” Shiro drops the bag he found on the living room floor. 

The news from Keith has him rattled, just shy of harried. Shiro makes an effort to move about the room with deliberate calm, slipping things they might need on a long journey into the shoulder pack he found.

“Can tell you’re scared," she scolds quietly. "Gotta tell me what for, or I can’t help.”

Shiro hangs his head. It’s jarring, being so transparent. He thinks he has a pretty good poker face, but not with his daughter. For the first time he wishes he could shut her out, just so he can worry in peace. He feels rotten at the thought.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he sighs. “Your dad says the Garrison might have a way to block your shield, okay? He thinks they’re trying to get to you, so we’re leaving.”

Ori stares back at him from the center of the room, dangling her favorite ragged toy in one hand. Her face is undisguised shock.

Shiro’s anxiety spikes again. _Christ, Takashi, you’ve done it now._ It’s no secret he’s handling all of this wrong. It’s one thing to be honest, quite another to lose all control over what’s falling out of his mouth. She needs him to be steady right now, and he’s a mess.

“Angel, I’m sorry—”

“—Why won’t they just leave us alone,” she grits out through clenched teeth.

“Hey, Ori,” he grabs her hands, kneeling, “we’re gonna fix this. I said nothing’s gonna get to you, I won’t let that happen. We’ll be gone before they get here.”

“They’re here.”

“Just put some outfits in here, warm things first— What?”

She’s already glowing, before the glass around them bursts. 

“They’re here.”

~ * ~

Keith is whistling to himself as he and the wolf board his Blade fighter after hours of field work in what used to be Russia. They're just a couple of the hundreds of volunteers helping locals move debris and rehab the area surrounding the last of the installations from Sendak’s invasion. Soon it too will be gone.

It’s taken years to get to this point. Ori is turning 8 this week, based on the birthday they’d chosen together, the day he found her. To mark the day, they're getting some time away from the Garrison, from Atlas and from Earth, bags already packed for the little adventure Keith planned. They'll leave after a surprise dinner tonight with all the paladins. Ori doesn’t even know they’re coming, and that's a real trick— she's not an easy girl to surprise.

Ori hates leaving Atlas, really, but she also needs the time to recharge. She has been pretty exhausted, balancing her tutors with drills and meetings. Sam is her constant companion on the Atlas, for which Keith is grateful. He knows he can trust the Holts.

There’s a message light on Keith’s dash.

“Hey Pidge, what’s up? Party’s not for a couple hours.”

“Keith! Fucking hell, I’ve been trying to reach you for 9 minutes. My dad, he sent an SOS—”

“—A what?!” Keith’s mind races. Any trouble Sam was in was trouble for Ori, as well. The launch sequence is underway before he’s even finished his thought. 

“Pidge, the Atlas is on base, I’ve got a read on their position now. What are you talking about?”

“Not an _Atlas_ SOS, quiznaking hell, I’m talking about our family line! I hacked the feed, dad's in questioning, some bullshit pretense. It’s all to get to Ori—”

“Where is she?” he growls. Pidge must've expected as much, looking just as livid as he does now.

“I’m tracking her. It’s taking time, they’ve got everything locked down! She’s with Steele and Michelson last I could find. Oh fuck, Keith- how did I not see this coming!”

There is ice in Keith's veins. “Tell me, Pidge.”

“There’s an order challenging your custody. Sanda’s behind this. _Alien foundling, no living blood relation. Kogane’s unofficial custody._ _Ward of the court!”_

“I’m going to destroy them,” Keith says flatly. He’s flying, and it’s mere minutes to the Garrison from anywhere on Earth. His even tone belies the feral fury he’s feeling in that moment and the sharp points of his fangs.

“Keith, think this through! They already have her, deep in the Garrison. We have to be smart about this.”

“I can take them. Wolf'll get me in.”

“You go in guns blazing, you might never see your daughter again.”

If he were to squint, he’d already see the Southwest Garrison grounds on the horizon. He banks hard with a growl, veering south to buy himself some time before coming up on their radars.

“Alright Pidge, what do we do? Please hurry.”

~ * ~

“Behind me!”

Shiro shouts the words but they’re soundless, his hearing shot as Ori scuttles behind the kitchen counters and crouches low. Wind whips the room into a fury, empty frames standing where a wall of windows used to be. 

Hovercraft engines raise an armored craft to eye level above the wagging leaves of the home’s greenery, the barrel of a mortar pointed directly at Shiro’s chest. Whether this is the disruptor Keith warned of or something else, he can’t tell.

It must be that. There’s a crackle of power, not much to look at but Shiro feels the pulse in his chest. Ori shouts, clutching at the silver chain at her neck. Her entire body screams tension, eyes pinned closed in concentration.

It’s no use. Her aquamarine glow flickers once before it is gone. She falls back hard against the oven door as the barrier fails, eyes blinking open in a daze. Instead of her calming, blue light, Shiro feels the sick heat of his arm powering up, a wicked flare of magenta.

Her eyes are wide, afraid, reflecting the violet that hums angrily between them. It’s the other side of a coin, hers to protect and his to destroy.

Shiro feels more than hears an approach from behind, moves on instinct to eviscerate a masked figure slinking toward his back from the door. The colors that splay are strange, not human at all.

This is who the Garrison sent for their daughter? Bounty hunters from an alien world.

Shiro lobs what remains of the first mercenary into the second to buy himself a moment. There are plenty of them, perhaps too many, never mind the manned craft with blasters trained where he stands. But they seem caught off guard, surprised to find more than just a girl alone. 

Something tells him he has to move, he has to fight _now_ while he can— surrender is not an option he can accept.

It’s different, rending flesh. Galra drones and centuries don’t writhe and suffer like this; the paladins don’t often find themselves fighting man-to-man in a war shouldered by machines. Fighting again to incapacitate, maim, kill if he must, reminds Shiro horribly of white sands and bloodthirsty cheers. 

But he cannot think. Focus. _Move._

He’s cleared the room for mere moments when the blasters from the hovercraft start tearing past. Ignoring his own searing flesh, Shiro grunts in pain while making for the windows in a dead run to jump the gap. 

Clearly no one expected this.

In a single, roaring leap, he’s on the craft tearing blasters away like they are themselves limbs, rabid as he crushes the barrel of the disrupter and then its housing under the white-hot force of his weaponized hand. Two assailants, the pilot and the gunner, both submit with a grimace of fear before he flings them overboard.

“Enough, Champion.”

The name chills his blood as he slowly turns to look past the twisted framing and waving greenery, enough to see his daughter gripped to the raider’s chest with a spike of broken glass pressing harshly at her throat.

“Don’t,” Shiro warns.

She’s far out of reach. He can’t possibly get to her without provoking him. He goes very still.

“You’ll come quietly, then.” The voice is muddy through a translator, but Shiro’s sure he doesn’t know him. The mercenary recognizes him, that is all.

Ori’s face is carefully neutral, her mouth pressed in a thin line though her breathing heaves, visible at a distance. He knows she must he afraid but he can’t find it in her face. Her boots dangle in the air, still anchored in one of creature’s several arms as he trains his blaster on Shiro. He’s not half so worried about that as he is about the shard threatening his daughter’s throat.

“The universe thinks you are long dead,” the raider says carefully, sounding almost impressed. It’s not a friendly sound. “What a find. Valuable, you might even say.”

“And what did they pay you,” Shiro snarls, “to kidnap a child?”

“Oh, handsomely,” comes the reply. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make a deal.”

Shiro sees red, curses the scavenger deep in his heart, and decides then and there to keep him talking. He just needs an opening. He needs to _think._

“Name your price,” Shiro calls. 

“You.”

Shiro blinks. “And what good am I to you?” 

The raider clicks his tongue.

“I know plenty around who’d pay their weight in credits to get their hands on you, Champion. But no one wants you dead more than I do, not since you slaughtered my son in the arena.”

Shiro exhales until he’s empty. 

He knows he killed in the arena, knows there are widows, orphans, bereft parents because of him. He knows at least one race ended by his hand— he had no choice, he tells himself, but… he did, and he’ll live with that for all his days. 

He was not numb to what he did, couldn’t be. It would have been easier if he were, but then they'd have truly taken everything from him. Even his humanity.

There’s no specific memory, no flash of understanding at this grieving father’s words, nothing like that. This stranger hates him, and he deserves it. But it changes nothing.

“Release her, and I’ll do what you say,” Shiro shouts into the breach. It’s a desperate move and he knows it. He has no plan, not yet, but he can’t reason with the vengeance in this man’s eyes, can’t parley while he has his daughter, _Keith's_ daughter by the throat.

“No.”

Shiro’s eyes lock onto hers.

“I’m not going back,” Ori grits out, beating him to a reply. Her eyes shimmer with furious tears, twisting in the mercenary’s hold.

“Ori, wait—”

“—And you are not hurting my family.”

The light pierces but Shiro can’t look away. This is not the soft glow of his daughter’s quintessence shield, but rather something jagged and flickering like blue flame. Her assailant grunts in surprise, howls in agony before he’s thrown back hard.

“Ori—” Her name tumbles from Shiro’s mouth, astonished. The plants lining the room shriveled to ash moments before the blast that half-melted the front of her attacker’s mismatched armor.  


He looked to be alive still, groaning in pain from the floor, but moving.

Shiro flies into action, jamming the pitch lever forward to force the craft against the shattered frame of what _was_ their home. The controls are jumpy, it’s a rough impact, but it’ll do the job. Ori’s already running, jumping the gap and grabbing onto his hip.

“Hold on.”

~ * ~

It takes hours to reach Ori within the Garrison, and Keith is a wall of fury with no one to take it out on when he finally does.

Pidge was right, of course. This was the only way. It takes all of the paladins, the wolf, and Atlas itself to hack, sneak, distract, and cover their tracks. They all risk their careers to get her out and keep her hidden in the dead of night.

Hunk comes and goes from Earth’s atmosphere pretty often and at odd hours in his sleek, updated Coalition transport. And it’s nothing out of the ordinary for Allura to operate her ship’s private teludav for a fellow paladin. Keith had taken Pidge’s advice and abandoned the fighter well out of range of Garrison property in the Arizona desert, tags disabled and signature masked— let em search for the wrong ship for a while.

Keith is so fucking glad he’d packed for even a short trip. They don’t need much, so long as they have each other.

Hunk is in the cockpit, while Keith and Ori huddle in the only real bed onboard, with the wolf slumped in front of the bed like he means to guard them both. Ori is curled in Keith’s lap; she has grown over the years but she's still so small, so _young._ She’s fingering the locket she wears, the small crystal inside more faded than it’s been in years. She’s trembling— scared, yes, and mad.

“Shh,” Keith whispers in her ear. “You’re okay. They can’t reach you now, we’ve made sure.”

“Why,” she demands tearfully. It makes Keith think, really think. He knows platitudes are shit; he’d rather be real with her. She deserves that from him.

“Same as always. People fear what they don’t understand. And I should’ve seen this coming. That’s on me, angel, I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” she snarls. So he does. Keith listens to the rasp of her tears as she gathers her thoughts. 

“Can’t always be your fault. Know you stayed because I wanted Atlas. But you're my dad, they don’t know, how dare they question—”

Keith can’t help the way his grip tightens, ferocious for her sake. He’s done with Earth. He’ll never forgive them for this.

“You are,” she sniffs, “my real family.”

~ * ~

It only takes one too-hard turn in the stolen hovercraft for Shiro to call Ori into his lap, compelling her to keep herself planted while he has his hands full with the controls.

No one pursues them as they swerve away from the coastline toward the cluster of townships nearby, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t being tracked.

Ori fishes the transponder out of his pocket.

“Daddy, where are you?”

_“Ori?”_ Keith’s voice rings clear over the line, his tone urgent. _“Where’s Shiro?”_

“Here, Keith,” he grunts, taking another tight turn around a bluff. The craft belongs in a junkyard. Where the hell is the power steering? “We were ambushed at your place, but we’re alright.”

Keith curses, or Shiro assumes he does, at least. It might be Galran, from the consonants he hears. _“I’ve got your position, what are you flying?_

“Don’t ask,” Shiro says. “Please tell me your old transport is in better shape than this POS?”

“What’s P-O-S—”

“Not now, honey,” Shiro chides her.

_“I’m 10 doboshes out,”_ Keith’s voice cuts in. _“We’ll rendezvous at the transport, I just hope she still flies. Are you being tracked?”_

Shiro eyes the rudimentary panel before him, so close to analog it hurts his eyes. He’s not sure what most of the panel says, but there are no pursuers on the horizon.

“Not yet.”

~ * ~

It takes more than 20 doboshes for Shiro the pull the sputtering craft up to an unmarked hangar, but they make it all the same.

The look on Keith’s face shoots straight through Shiro’s heart, worrying his hands over his Blades sash like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. For a moment, he looks so small.

Ori leaps into his arms before Shiro has even set the junker down.

“My heart,” Keith gasps, clutching her tightly. She’s whispering something, but it’s lost to the wind.

Shiro folds himself around them both, his arms encompassing. He’s kissing Keith’s face, their daughter caught between them. He feels the wolf's shoulder brush his hip.

“Thank you,” Keith’s voice wavers. Shiro pulls back to look at him, his eyes questioning.

“For keeping her safe,” Keith tries for a watery smile. It's more of a grimace, his lashes wet. Shiro brushes away the drops gathering there. “If anything happened to her, I—”

“I know, Keith,” he hums, kissing his wet cheeks. A helpless laugh bubbles up from Shiro's chest. “I’ve no idea how you did this for so long on your own.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith coughs as he pulls away, swiping at his tears and setting Ori on her feet as the wolf goes to her, giving her a generous lick. Keith glances past Shiro’s shoulder, realizes there are no bags to grab and his brow furrows.

“Right. You left in a hurry.”

“I’ll fill you in,” Shiro turns them toward the hangar with a sweeping gesture. Keith stops him.

“Wait.” He’s taking in the sight of the smashed disruptor mounted sloppily to the hovercraft floor. “I’m bringing this, just a sec.” Keith pulls a multitool from his belt and sets to work.

“Good idea,” Shiro admits, impressed. That’ve been a missed opportunity. “I’ll get Ori onboard. Are we ready to fly?”

Keith makes a face over his shoulder. “Ready as we’re gonna be. See for yourself.”

The transport is a classic. That’s the nice way of putting it.

It’s a Coalition model even Shiro recognizes, and that’s not a good thing; back then, the Rebels were a scrappy band of freedom fighters, resourceful and daring but badly under-resourced. From what Shiro had seen, they were renowned for salvage ops, sometimes knocking together hardly space-worthy hulls in a hurry to make much-needed supply runs. It was life or death, much of the time, and no few recruits paid with their lives when their shaky crafts came up against the slightest trouble.

This model was slightly better than those, or would have been ten years ago. It was the same craft Keith and Ori had fled the Garrison in years back, and most of the parts were original. She was… humble. Worn-in. Her pine green and orange paint job wasn’t the only thing chipping off. But system checks came back positive and Keith had stored spare fuel for a rainy day. They were primed for takeoff.

Keith shoulders the trashed disruptor onboard easily, joining Shiro in the cockpit once the hatch is secured and Ori is buckled in the jumper seat just behind the cockpit. The wolf sprawls at her feet.

“She went through a whole crystal today,” Keith comments as he slides into the pilot seat. It’s a question, sort of. “I keep a supply. You should, too.” Keith drops two very small Balmeran crystals into Shiro’s hand.

Shiro is sitting copilot, eyeing the gleaming crystals in his palm. They’re cool to the touch despite coming from Keith’s pocket. 

“Might’ve been the disruptor. But also she, um, made a fireball?”

Keith’s face is unreadable, until he looks back at the dash. “Okay, maybe save for later,” he murmurs.

“Fair.” Shiro pulls up the star charts. At least these have been updated within the last two deca-phoebs. “Uh, where do we go?”

For the first time since the morning, the tension almost melts from Keith's shoulders.

“To Arus.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the long silence, here's more age swap sheith fam! I've got two more chapters after this one. All struggles will be resolved, but there's some soft angst in this one - just heads up.
> 
> Also, a trillion thanks to [CruelisB](https://twitter.com/CruelisB) who made [this wonderful art](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1215042783892905984) of sheith with little Ori. I can't tell you how many times I've screamed over this surprise art. Endless gratitude.
> 
> Beta heroics by the wonderful [ragdollrory](https://twitter.com/ragdollrory)!

_“Every day. You can’t be serious.”_

“Yes, Keith,” Pidge gives a long-suffering sigh, sitting hunched in her private lab far from prying Garrison eyes. “I need you to keep sending scans of Shiro at regular intervals for at least a movement. Send me the data as you go; it’ll be a lot to transmit.”

Keith’s eyes are wide as saucers. _“What’s wrong with him? I don’t get it, he’s stabilized—”_

Pidge twirls a pen between her fingers. “Nothing’s wrong with Shiro, not that I can tell. I swear. It’s just a theory I need to check out.”

_“But you already said he’s not a clone.”_

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. She stares past Keith’s image on the screen, mentally rifling through her working theories regarding Shiro’s reappearance.

_“Pidge,”_ Keith barks over the secure line, _“tell me what the scans are for. Whatever your theory is, I deserve to know—”_

“Alright, calm down,” she tries tucking her pen behind her ear but there’s already one up there. She drops it haphazardly onto the desk instead, splaying her hands over the cluttered surface and taking a deep breath.

“Okay, look. I’ve given a lot of thought to the way that Shiro _vanished._ If he’d died in that lion, there should have been some trace.”

Pidge expected the scowl on Keith’s face, but she does feel a twinge of guilt at how any mention of that day cuts him. 

“And besides,” she hazards gently, “doesn’t he look… young to you?”

Keith blinks. _“I— he—”_ his frown turns into a pout. It would be adorable, maybe, if she wasn’t far too sleep-deprived to enjoy it.

“So you noticed,” she deadpans. “And how much do you know about time travel?”

_“Uh,”_ Keith blinks at her. _“Is that… even real?”_

“Theoretically? Yes, totally. The specifics are the problem— I’m working on that part. His quantum signature matches our reality, but he’s _displaced._ We don’t even have vocabulary for this yet,” Pidge buzzes with barely-suppressed excitement. “This is practically the same Shiro as the last pod readings I have from before Zarkon—”

_“Alright,”_ Keith throws up his hands. _“I don’t want to ask why you have our medical data, do I?”_

“Keith,” she scoffs, offended. “Need I remind you there are whole new disciplines of science in those Altean scans! Quantum doesn’t begin to cover it. We are infants in the scientific universe, Keith— and Allura, Coran, the colonists, they’re not Altean physicists! Or whatever this would be called. It’s not one field, it’s _integrated._ These scans are like artifacts, all we have left of advanced disciplines whose textbooks were lost to genocide and a ten-thousand-year empire.”

Keith is giving her a mild look that she finds irritating.

“Besides, if I can figure out what happened to Shiro and how he wound up on your doorstep, will you still be grumbling then?”

_“Depends.”_

“On what?” she challenges snappishly.

_“On whether I like the news.”_ Keith does a valiant job holding back his smirk.

Pidge feels her own smile win out, a fraction of tension leaving her shoulders. She hasn’t slept a wink since she heard that Keith found Shiro, that Shiro is _alive,_ and she’s hot on the trail of understanding how—

Keith gives in to a fond smile, his eyes a bit sad. _“So make it good news, alright? We could use some.”_

~ * ~

It was a lucky break that Keith’s flight plan for his daughter’s birthday trip had been off-the-record from the start, long before the Garrison ever tried to take what was never theirs.

Lucky because, despite jettisoning the paladin dinner with all due haste, Keith could still make good on at least _one_ birthday surprise. In fact, their first stop feels more important than ever.

They rendezvous with Matt first, who was able to scrounge up an old-model Coalition transport that no one would miss. It was honestly a piece of junk. Hunk averts his eyes, Keith makes a face as the wolf huffs at his side. Ori giggles.

“So that settles it,” Matt waggles an eyebrow and waves the little girl and oversized wolf onboard. Matt would be hitching a ride with Hunk to the nearest outpost, after pulling off this little covert trade.

Keith grabs Matt’s shoulder, speaking under his breath.

“Your sister saved my whole world back there. Everyone did, but- you know Pidge. Please thank her for me, when you see her. Is… is Sam okay?”

Matt gives a mild smile. “Yeah, dad’s okay. More a bureaucratic nightmare than any real danger for him. Not like for you guys.” His smile falters.

“Yeah, well. I hope it stays that way,” Keith’s look is cold as ice. “I’ll never put my faith in that place again.”

Matt frowns. “Can’t say I blame you. Our loss.”

“Not yours,” Keith dismisses the notion before it can sink in and ache, poking Matt lightly in the chest. They’ve all been through quite enough loss; Keith won’t stand for any more. “You guys are our family. That doesn’t change. But… thanks.”

Keith boards their new ship with all they have to their names, feeling almost free for leaving it all behind. Ori sits copilot and colors, occasionally complaining that Keith won’t say where they’re headed.

“It’s a surprise, monkey,” he teases, “for your birthday.”

Ori looks up from her sketchbook, startled. Her expression softens. “Oh…”

Keith spares her a glance. “You forgot, huh?”

She nods.

“Well I’m gonna make it up to you. Hunk made that cheesecake you wanted,” he offers. Keith’s not sure how cinnamon swirl works with cream cheese, but Hunk hasn’t failed them yet, despite catering to Ori’s peculiar tastes. The dessert was meant to be shared with seven but will be just theirs, now. 

“A real big one,” he adds.

And that does it— her smile reaches her eyes for the first time in many hours, letting Keith breathe just a little easier.

“Thanks, daddy.”

~ * ~

Leaving New Daibazaal behind is bittersweet, however necessary it is. Keith has left so much behind, so many times. The air is heavy with it.  
They’re well underway before Keith relinquishes the pilot’s seat to Shiro, unbuckling their daughter from her seat and hoisting her up onto his hip.

Ori sighs contentedly, nuzzling. She’s pretty big to be carried, but Keith has always been far stronger than a human his size would be. He could carry her for hours without a second thought.

After the scare today, Shiro’s not surprised he wants her close to his heart.

A few doboshes later, Keith comes back to the cockpit with a plate, extending it in Shiro’s direction as he sits with Ori koala’ed on his front. The offering looks like hummus and canned vegetables spread over flatbread, and Shiro realizes all at once he hasn’t eaten since dawn on New Daibazaal— and that’s if this can even be counted as the same day. 

Even that had been hardly a few anxious bites while giving Ori her breakfast, worrying over the way Keith had taken off in such a hurry.

Almost on cue, Shiro’s stomach gives an embarrassing groan.

“Someone’s hungry,” Keith teases. Shiro doesn’t even try denying it. The flavor is unfamiliar but it’s savory and substantive. He hums with pleasure, licking his fingers clean.

Keith is quiet. Too quiet, he realizes, with a faraway look that makes Shiro worry immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reaching to touch Keith’s knee.

Keith’s eyes flicker to his, looking caught unawares. Then he sighs as he frowns down at their daughter’s moonlight hair. “Thinking about that dream I had of the black lion. Seeing you back in the past.”

Ori tenses in his hold and Keith strokes her back soothingly. “I’m sorry, starlight. Promised Allura we’d all talk about it. You know what I’m talking about.”

She pulls back to look at him, her expression solemn. “I know.”

Shiro blinks between the two of them. “Wait, how? Did you have the same dream, sweetheart?”

“Not a dream,” she fidgets with Keith’s sash.

“Then what was it?” Keith asks, frowning. She’s slow to meet his eyes.

“A choice.”

~ * ~

Keith and Ori don’t stop flying until they’re touching down on the glittering surface of a familiar Balmera.

Ori has never seen one up close, though Shay has visited Atlas over the years and already feels like an old friend.

It’s indescribable, really. The planet’s surface lays shimmering in afternoon sun, like an endless field of wildflowers after a rain. Also not like that at all— more solid, unyielding and strange. Ori darts over the rough terrain, trailing dots of quintessence behind her like dandelion seeds stirring in the breeze.

Shay smiles, following behind the girl. She shows Ori some of her favorite places, encourages her to run her hands over immense crystals in vast caverns. Keith and the wolf shadow them, letting Ori soak it all up, literally. With the Balmera’s blessing, she’s free to bask in abundance, cleansing hurt and anger and fear from her mind.

Shay takes them to a smaller cavern, deeper in the Balmera. The wolf hangs back when it becomes a bit of a squeeze, but here there are smaller crystals that are quite a bit more potent than average. Ori is drawn to one in particular. Her eyes turn to Shay.

“Do you know how it is done?”

Ori thinks for a moment. “I do.”

“Go ahead then,” Shay smiles encouragingly.

Ori kneels and presses her small hand to the wall, cupping the tiny chip of a crystal that called out to her. She closes her eyes, concentrating, as the room brightens, suffused with quintessence. Ori makes a soft sound of surprise. A moment passes before the stone pops loose, slipping clear of the rock face into her hand with the Balmera’s blessing.

She meets her dad’s eyes with a prideful smile.

“Good job, angel,” Keith says.

Opening her locket, Ori taps Allura’s crystal into her palm, pocketing it. It may be faded, and Allura has long since replaced the one missing from her circlet, but Keith understands the instinct to offer it back when she can. Allura may still find it sentimental. It had been with her for so long.

The new crystal she collected is so bright that it dazzles despite its small size, her silver-white locks aglow in its light. Snapping it in place, she latches it closed and replaces the necklace beneath her tunic with a private smile.

“All better,” Ori says softly. She takes a step back toward Keith and Shay just as the cavern gives a slight tremor. Keith grabs her arm on instinct, moving to shelter her.

About a dozen more glimmering pebbles fall to the cave floor, tumbling gently toward her feet as the shaking stops. Keith’s eyes are wide, Ori’s too, but Shay only laughs.

“The Balmera thinks you are bashful. You may also take these ones, star child.”

Ori doesn’t need to be told twice, gathering them up.

~ * ~

“Is she asleep?” Shiro asks from the bed.

Keith nods, the door to their cabin sliding closed behind him.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have her in here with us?” 

They’d decided to turn the small galley into Ori’s sleeping quarters, since she’s really the only one that would fit on the cushioned bench. Keith took care of settling her down while Shiro took the first sleep shift.

“I’m sure we could squeeze in here together,” he offers.

Keith shakes his head. “That bed’s hardly enough for one, Shiro,” he sighs. “She’s alright. Besides, no sense waking her back up now.” He leaves his boots by the door, perching beside Shiro on the edge of the bed. Shiro reaches out, stroking a hand over Keith’s thigh.

“You alright?”

“No.” It’s honest. Keith is coiled tight, prepared, ready. He clicks his tongue quietly. “I think I’ll keep flying awhile. I won’t sleep right now, anyway.”

Shiro frowns. “You need a break,” he squeezes the muscle of Keith’s thigh, kneading into the tension there. The man’s eyelids flutter helplessly at that. “Lay down for an hour or two, even if you don’t sleep. I’ll take the helm—”

“Shiro,” Keith presses his hand to his chest, stopping him. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Keith,” Shiro’s expression softens, “what do you need?”

“You,” he whispers. He looks so lost, his voice so soft, almost fragile. Shiro’s heart strains painfully in response.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “c’mere.” He opens his arms, pulling Keith down against him, into the body-warm bed. A sound stutters out of Keith’s chest, high and strained. 

Keith breathes against his neck, kissing up to his jaw. “Please.”

Shiro’s hands graze up his back, kneading into knotted tension there. “Anything you want. Whatever you need—”

“Shhh,” Keith hushes, slotting his lips against Shiro’s. It’s a brief kiss, careful, controlled. “Don’t wanna talk,” Keith scolds. "Don’t wanna think. I need to feel."

Shiro watches his eyes for a moment, reading the desperation there. Keith is riding the knife edge of panic as the moments tick by.

“Okay,” Shiro exhales, rolling Keith beneath him. “Alright,” he licks his lips, slotting his hips between Keith’s thighs and drawing a hushed groan from the man beneath him. “No more talking.”

~ * ~

After the Balmera, it’s rare that Ori and Keith get to touch down somewhere with a hospitable atmosphere. They don’t have a destination quite yet. _Stay hidden, keep moving._

Eventually they’ll connect up with the Blades, Keith imagines, but they can’t do that yet. Given Keith’s well-established ties, Marmoran headquarters were a dead giveaway. When Keith vanished with _certain assets,_ the admiralty started pointing fingers. _Demonstrable collusion with covert forces,_ the accusation read.

_“You could have warned us,”_ Krolia quipped over their secure line.

“At least you didn’t have to pretend you knew nothing about it,” Keith sniped back.

It’s wearying, only leaving their transport briefly at swap meets where they can discreetly resupply. During these stops, the wolf poofs away to wild places, running off as far and as fast as he can, until they need to depart again. 

The first phoeb is the hardest. The second is looking up, as they skirt the edge of a sector Keith remembers from his Voltron days.

Keith takes a bit of a detour on Hunk’s recommendation, touching down on a densely forested moon. The cold is biting, the ground crackling underfoot with frost, but the atmosphere is breathable. It feels unreasonably good, frigid air piercing his lungs.

_“Yep, those are the ones,”_ Hunk’s voice crackles over the open channel, with Keith’s wrist cam focused on the fruit in his other hand. _“I’m so glad you hit wyelleh season! Okay, so, see those ridges? Slice lengthwise between there and grab two spoons.”_

Keith crinkles his nose. “You don’t, like, cook them first?”

_“No, no! Keith, wyelleh tastes like banana ice cream! They’re sweetest after the frosts. Trust me, you want those puppies ice cold. Instant sundae. Oh, but spit out the seeds. Those aren’t chocolate chips,”_ Hunk shrugs cheerfully.

Keith finds himself grinning and hopes Hunk hears it in his voice. “Okay, man. I appreciate this. Sorry for waking you up.”

_“Are you kidding? I’ve always got time for you guys,”_ Hunk mumbles through a gaping yawn. _“Seriously, though. Pour one out for me tonight.”_

Keith wishes Hunk a good night and then switches off his comm.

He meets Ori just outside their transport, where she’s silhouetted in the near-dark doing literal cartwheels in the frosted-over clearing. It isn’t just the wolf who’s bouncing off the walls, too much time cooped up inside.

“Okay, snowflake, let’s try not to destroy your only decent gloves, alright?” Keith ruffles her hair. “I’ve got us a treat for tonight. Supposedly just like iced cream.”

She looks at what he’s holding and tilts her head, decidedly unimpressed.

“Hunk swears by these,” he offers. Now she looks excited. “Oh, so who’s a critic now?” He huffs a laugh. “Grab us a couple of spoons, please.”

Keith settles the extra fruits he gathered against their ship in the frosty meadow. For the morning, he thinks, as he steps inside after her and lets the hatch swing closed. 

He slides his knife just where Hunk said, between the ridges along the lumpy, greenish-brown length. The flesh parts easily, pulling just a little around the center where flat brown-black seeds stand like a cairn of skipping stones against a creamy yellow custard. He wipes the sugary residue off his blade and sheathes it.

When Ori returns to his side he can see in the dome light that she’s wearing his fingerless leather gloves over her dark blue knitted ones. It’s a strange sight, her hands all but swimming in the second layer of material. It reminds Keith achingly of slipping into Shiro’s oversized clothes. They were close like that, once.

She hops up to sit with him in the galley, unaware of how Keith blinks at her hands. He’s afraid to speak, not ready for the way his voice may shake if he tries, accepting the outstretched spoon without comment.

Spoon poised above the thawing treat, Ori pauses, her eyes falling closed. Keith watches, fascinated, as her lips move in a silent wish. He had planned not to mention it this time, not wanting to voice it aloud, but his girl always knows the shape of what he’s feeling.

When her eyes open, they’re that perfect grey that will always slice through Keith’s defenses.

She looks abashed. “Sorry,” she says softly, spooning up a bite of soft fruit.

“No,” he swallows. “Don’t be sorry, angel. We can wish Shiro a happy birthday. It’s just hard sometimes, still. I’m… feeling a lot of feelings tonight.”

“Know that,” she agrees, blinking up at him. “Tell me?”

Keith holds his breath, not at all sure where to start. He takes his time.

“I’ve been thinking about how this is what Shiro wanted, almost. Exploring the universe, all these unknown worlds. Just him and the stars. We said we’d go together someday.”

“He’d like that.”

“Yeah,” Keith’s voice shakes, “he would. He always dreamed of the stars.”

That night, tucked into the too-narrow bed they share, Keith sleeps fitfully. He keeps seeing Shiro- the other Shiro, really. He keeps seeing the light pass over his unconscious face as they fall.

Ori shifts, tugging his wrist.

“What is it?” he asks sluggishly.

“Not sleeping,” she accuses. “Can we go sit under the stars, for Shiro?” 

Keith’s mind is slow to make sense of the question, his heart leaping at the mention of his name. Before he manages to answer, Ori pulls him and their blanket off the bed and toward the cabin door.

“’S too cold out, Ori, we can’t—”

“Not out there,” she mutters, pulling him toward the cockpit. “Can see ‘em plenty in here.”

Sure enough, there are millions of stars winking at them from the forward viewport. The night beyond is cold and clear and breathtaking. He feels calmer already.

“Oh,” Keith murmurs. “Alright.”

He sits in the pilot’s seat with the blanket around his back, wrapping her up when she crawls into his lap. Ori sighs contentedly against his chest, her grip slackening as she settles down into sleep.

Keith looks out the window for a long time, grateful in a way he could never put into words. When he slips into sleep, this time he doesn’t remember any dreams.

~ * ~

In a few short movements, Pidge has become a leading authority on time travel. Not that anyone will ever hear of it, but she didn’t get into science for the fame.

Pidge still has no idea _why_ Black did what she did, landing Shiro from the past in their present, but she is fairly certain of _how._

I.

Time, it turns out, leaves its signature in all things. She’d never have noticed it, not without a valid comparison: something that _belongs_ next to something _displaced._

But now Pidge had just that.

_Residual effects of displacement,_ she wrote in her notebook, underlining the final word as she mulled over her calculations.

This was Shiro, the _real_ Shiro, and he didn’t belong where he was.

II.

The signature was _fragile._ Had Keith not contacted her immediately and taken all the scans she needed, she wouldn’t have found it at all. She would never have seen the progression. 

The effect drifted quickly, irrevocably— every atom of Shiro settling into this new time and place, until any trace of what had happened was gone.

That’s not how alternative-reality signatures work. This was something else.

III.

Hunk goes for metaphors for scientific phenomenon, while Pidge does not— one of the many things that two relative geniuses will bicker over until the heat death of the universe.

But for those that prefer metaphors, Pidge found herself likening the signature to an obtuse set of coordinates describing the subject’s origin in space-time— and not in deca-phoebs, vargas and ticks, but rather gravitational constants and other things still more abstract. It was a _when_ and a _where,_ once Pidge had her bearings enough to decipher it.

IV.

Before Shiro woke up, Pidge’s working theory told her that the last thing Shiro would remember was the fight with Zarkon.

Shiro confirmed it, of course. And by the time Keith told them all about his too-real ‘dream,’ Pidge was way ahead of them. She knew exactly _when_ Shiro was from. She had the coordinates.

V.

Time, like space, can be folded to close distances instantaneously. Like a wormhole, maybe— but then again, not at all like a wormhole. Crossing the fold is the tricky part, but it’s _conceivable._ Even _possible._ But a teludav won’t do the trick. 

Apparently the black lion could do it. That definitely gave a lead from a design perspective. She’d need to rope in Hunk and Allura, once she got that far.

VI.

Time, unlike space, has a strong bias to travel in one direction only. Pidge can respect that, in her highly ordered mind. She had the calculations to show how much extra resistance there was in moving in reverse.

But more like guidelines than actual rules, the bias could be overcome with enough power.

VII.

Never mind that all of this would require energy that was unheard of on this plane of existence. That’ll be a problem for later Pidge, and not one she’s particularly troubled by.

The universe is big and weird. Voltron showed her that. Honerva showed them that, along with the darkness that flowed from temptation. If it was an energy source problem, that meant tapping into the abundant quintessence that lay just beyond this reality.

Even without Voltron— even if the roar Keith heard was from the black lion of their past, unreachable in their present— there were still ways to access that kind of power. Perhaps too many, all told. The paladins kept several closely-guarded secrets in this regard, hoping to prevent another power grab from tumbling the universe into several more millennia of war.

But there were ways. 

Ori could do it.

~ * ~

Shiro learns it will take them more than a movement to travel to Arus in their space winnebago, laying low and avoiding major hubs along the way. But so long as they stay off the radar and avoid prying eyes, they have all the time in the world. 

They take their sweet time.

Ori makes a habit of crawling into the lap of whoever’s flying copilot. It’s sweet how she fidgets eagerly in Shiro’s lap while Keith controls their descent toward the surface of the first planetoid with a breathable atmosphere in days. He scouts out a welcoming-looking spot where the sun was just sinking toward the horizon and sets her down easy.

Keith kept busy since they landed, heading off into the woods with the wolf. He left Shiro with a bundle of tarp and cord, tasking him with setting up an awning to expand their living area a bit outside the cramped transport. It’s a janky job, objectively speaking, but Shiro feels a little proud when he surveys his handiwork, testing the give.

By the time he finished, Keith returns with his arms laden, his cheeks flushed from the healthy exertion.

He looks radiant, wearing that sinfully tight Blades uniform again, and Shiro is utterly torn between hoping he’ll never take it off and wanting to tear it off _for_ him. And a third impulse, wishing Keith felt he could relax enough to forgo the battle gear for even one evening.

_It’s practical,_ he said, _and it’s good to stay ready._ Shiro knows that’s true, and it also makes him ache. He wants to lift this burden from Keith’s shoulders. He’s fought so long, for the universe, for his daughter— he shouldn’t have to fight anymore.

Keith’s mission, Shiro learns, was to scrounge up some root vegetables from the woods nearby. He seems confident they’ll not only be edible but delicious. Same for the strange-looking fruits that Shiro’s certain he wouldn’t go anywhere near if Keith hadn’t sworn they had Hunk’s express seal of culinary approval. 

Keith smiles a little as he describes the procedure he learned, pressing the fruits into campfire coals, rind and all, letting them bake until they crack and steam fragrantly of berry pies. When he puts it that way, Shiro decides he’s happy to at least give it a go.

There aren’t a lot of places he wouldn’t follow Keith, honestly. 

The hour is late, the sky ablaze as dusk washes over them, when Keith finally gets to grilling his lumpy _not-potatoes_ in a pan over a battered cookstove. Keith picked out a few kitchen items at the market they found outside the Jyda Belt on their way to last night’s stop. This is his first chance to break it all out, and Shiro can’t help but notice that he looks the most at ease that he has in several days.

They don’t talk about fleeing the reach of the Garrison. They don’t speak of the ‘dream’ that wasn’t a dream, or the things Ori said about potential realities, the inevitable choices awaiting them. Silence settles into a kind of unspoken truce, and Shiro tries not to let it nip at his peace.

Shiro holds Ori in his lap, lazily poking their campfire with a branch, careful not to disturb their dessert as the rind blackens and starts to steam.

“Will you tell me a story, papa?”

Shiro looks down at Ori’s upturned face, her silver eyes reflecting all the colors of the dusky sky.

His mind goes blank for a moment. He’s heard Keith telling their daughter stories, tales of heroics that he has slowly realized stem from the trials the paladins faced to end the war, and how they overcame them. Embellished, of course— exaggerated. Or, he hopes so.

“Sure, pumpkin,” he says, stalling. “Do you want me to read one of your stories to you?” He reaches for her pad balanced on the log nearby.

She shakes her head, halting him. “No, no, just… your own story.”

His throat is dry. “Ah. Well. What kind of story do you wanna hear?”

Ori’s voice is low, conspiratorial. “One about daddy,” she says, and her eyes glitter as she grins. 

“Alright,” Shiro pulls her close against his chest. His eyes trail over Keith where he stands grilling their dinner, lingering over his lithe form. If he heard every word, he doesn’t let on.

Shiro doesn’t think of himself as much of a storyteller, but there’s so much he could say about Keith.

“Has your daddy ever told you how he and I met?”

“Nn-nh,” she shakes her head, pale hair tickling where it brushes softly over his flesh arm.

Shiro makes his voice very, very low in her ear. “Well, first he trounced all of his peers in the simulator— easily the most natural pilot I’d ever seen. Then next thing I knew,” Shiro grins, “he’d stolen my car.”

Keith doesn’t look up from his cooking or acknowledge their conversation, and most people would believe him unaware. But Shiro isn’t most people, not where Keith is concerned. He has certain tells, catching the slight tremor of Keith’s jaw, the tug of a smile warring for control over the man’s face.

Ori gasps in shock and also delight. “Wait, really?!” She squeals altogether too loudly for their _secret little chat._ Shiro kisses her temple.

“Really really,” Shiro whispers through a smile. 

It’s a fond memory, emblazoned full and bright: how Keith became his mission. Deciding that if he did anything good in this life, anything worthwhile, maybe it wasn’t a flight to the edge of the solar system that he wasn’t sure they’d grant him, even after everything he’d done to earn it… maybe it was this. Maybe it was _him._

And if Keith had made Shiro his mission, too, more times than either man could count, well. He never could have imagined being here, but somehow everything flowed from that day. Somehow the man before him, older and stronger and steadier, really was that spitfire boy who’d convinced himself he’d rather let it all burn than risk trusting anyone else but himself. 

To think of all that Shiro had missed since then— of how few years they’d really had.

Ori brings him back with a low whisper. “But papa, why’d he do that?”

Shiro thinks for a moment. There’s so much he could say about _why,_ most of which is not his story to tell. 

It’s not that she wouldn’t already know the rough outline of Keith’s childhood; with her sensitivities, she’d probably know more than enough even if Keith wasn’t the most forthcoming about those years.

“I don’t know for certain,” Shiro says finally. “I think he didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

Ori hums, thoughtful. “Were you mad?”

Shiro shakes his head, hugging her tight. “No, the car wasn’t important. But he was.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he needed someone. And I know how that feels.”

Ori nods, all seriousness. “I understand.”

It catches Shiro off-guard, though it probably shouldn’t. She was a foundling, too. 

“I saw him fly that sim, and- I just knew he could be amazing, if someone bothered to give him a start. I knew there was something remarkable about him, and I just… never questioned it.”

Keith clears his throat too loudly as he shuts off the grill and hangs the tongs, a plate of roasted vegetable balanced in one hand. He turns toward the campfire.

“Dinnertime,” he smirks as he approaches, “unless I’m interrupting something over here?”

Shiro bounces Ori in his lap as though she’s a child half her age. “Oh we’re ready— aren’t we, potato?”

“What’s a potato?”

“Kinda like this,” Keith extends the plate toward her eager nose while she leans in for a sniff, “but an Earth version.” He settles in beside them and gives them utensils.

They share a plate like they often do, easy and familiar. No one questions how they’ve taken to sitting so close, feeling each others’ warmth and the thrum of a pulse under each others’ skin. They each have their reasons.

“Is it good?” she chirps, stabbing a bite.

“Hm?” Keith hums through a mouthful.

“A- a potato?”

“You should see your daddy put away potato fries,” Shiro snorts. “You’d think they weren’t making ‘em anymore.”

Keith shakes his head, smiling through a mouthful. “Well, maybe I knew I wouldn’t be back. Charles’ Diner is long gone.”

“No!” Shiro’s eyes are wide, horrified to learn of the old haunt’s demise.

“Oh c’mon, that place wasn’t anything special.”

“That’s not the point,” Shiro sulks, “it’s the memories.”

“It was a long time ago for me, I guess,” Keith says. He’s going for casual but there’s too much heat in it. He changes tack quickly. “Besides, who needs potatoes when we have… whatever these are.”

Ori giggles at her daddy, her voice bright like a bell. Keith shoulders Shiro fondly, aiming to soften the blow from before.

It’s not the old diner that Shiro can’t let go of, or Keith’s lack of nostalgia for mediocre food from a place tainted with betrayal. Humanity had played him dirty two times too many. No, it wasn’t that— it was everything that had gone wrong for Keith to be carrying all this pain.

Maybe, if Shiro had only been there, things would have been different.

~ * ~

_“I know how to send Shiro back.”_

Keith tenses like a cobra at the news. “What?”

_“I have a prototype. It’s a lot simpler to send something to the future, mind you, than the past, but—”_

“—Pidge, slow down,” Shiro pleads.

She rolls her eyes. _“Keep up, guys. I’ve got more testing to do, but I’m confident I can fold time back to the precise moment Shiro left our timeline. Give me a few movements, tops. Now, powering the thing is the problem—”_

“Pidge,” Keith warns.

_“—Allura can manage it for a few ticks, at most. To really make progress, Ori will have to give it a go—”_

“PIDGE.”

Keith’s voice is sharp, deadly. Shiro watches Pidge’s expression falter at Keith’s murderous glare.

_“Sorry,”_ she winces. _“I, uh, I’m sure you have questions. Shoot.”_

Keith’s jaw clicks with tension. “Why.”

She blinks. _“Come again?”_

“Why, exactly, are you trying to send Shiro back ten years?”

_“Uh- I… thought that was the thing to do?”_ She swallows audibly. _“Keith, he doesn’t belong here. He’s displaced—”_

“Don’t talk about Shiro like he’s not here,” Keith growls, anger rolling off of him in waves. “He’s right here. Act like it.”

“Keith,” Shiro pleads quietly. 

Keith turns an angry look on Shiro, ready to lash out again, but thinks better of it. He looks at his feet instead. Without meeting either of their eyes, he gestures for Shiro to go ahead. This is about him, after all.

Shiro blinks at Pidge’s image on the screen. “I- don’t know where to begin,” he confesses. “This is a lot. You figured out how to time travel in, what, two weeks? That’s insane, even for you.”

_“You were asleep for a_ _phoeb,_ _Shiro,”_ she deadpans, then clears her throat when Keith turns his glare on her again. _“I’ve had a little time to work on this. And I’ve had my theories about… things. The point is, this works. I have proof now.”_

Shiro wants to gripe that this is the first they’re hearing of this, except he realizes that it isn’t. Pidge told them when he first woke up that she was working on time travel. That both feels like an eternity ago and not possibly enough time for anyone, not even Pidge, to have cracked it.

Shiro knows that is what has Keith so on edge. They both thought this choice was hypothetical at best, and definitely much farther off. And yet, how often already has Shiro wondered if it would be possible to go back and right all those wrongs?

His curiosity starts to win out.

“You really think you can send me back?”

Pidge doesn’t quite smile, but it’s a near thing. _“I can send you back to Black. We would’ve never known you’d left.”_

“Just like Keith’s dream.”

Pidge adjusts her glasses. _“I’m not sure it was a dream. More like a memory.”_

“More like a warning,” Keith seethes. “Whatever that was, Black was _not_ happy about it. She sent him out of there for a reason. She _saved_ him. Why in the hell would we fuck with that?”

Shiro bites his lip. Gods, he’s curious— he’ll cop to that much. But Keith’s fury has him frozen. It’s not only his decision, not anymore. He’s got a family to consider. They have so much to talk about, so much sooner than they're ready for.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out over here, Katie,” he offers, conciliatory. “And we’re not going anywhere near the Garrison’s network for the foreseeable future.”

_“Oh, that won’t be necessary— we’ll have to go back to where it happened, anyway. Edge of the known universe and all that. The_ where _matters as much as the_ when, _really.”_

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Shiro answers. It feels stern, but Keith needs to know he has his back. “We’ll talk it over. In the meantime, no one's mind is made up. No promises. Okay?”

Pidge’s brow furrows but she nods. _“Kay. I understand. But if you do want to go home, I’ll make sure that’s an option you have.”_

_Home._ Shiro thought he knew what that meant. Now he’s not at all sure.

He smiles wistfully. “I know you will.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise art for this fic ♡ [Anka](https://twitter.com/kaa05n2) made [this beautiful painting of sheith](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero/status/1274019291453505536) for this chapter and I love it so much!!! Also, both [Quantum Abyssmal](https://twitter.com/quantumabyssmal) and [ragdollrory](https://twitter.com/ragdollrory) helped me a ton with this chapter, much love to them.

Keith wakes up in the Garrison hospital with the worst headache of his life.

His head is bandaged, he can feel that much. Everything hurts. But nothing so much as his heart when he sees his daughter curled gently against his ribs in the narrow bed.

“There you are,” his mom says gently, approaching from the window to brush Keith’s matted bangs out of his eyes. He’s vaguely impressed they didn’t shave his head, on account of the head injury. He wonders if the other paladins wouldn’t let them do it. 

“Are they all—”

“Everyone’s fine, Keith,” she says calmly. “You’re the last to come around.” He can hear the relief in her voice. Krolia strokes her fingers soothingly through Ori’s hair. “The doctors tried initially to keep her off your bed. Allura had to explain she was helping to heal you.”

Keith blinks, astonished. “She- she can do that?”

Krolia’s smile is indulgent. “Subtly. It is quintessence manipulation, energy sharing. But it was also an excuse. Your daughter needed to be here with you as much as you needed it.”

Alarm flashes through him. “Was she hurt in the battle?”

“Not physically, no.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Keith hears it all in his mind, as clear as the first time. Pidge's voice, Hunk's, all of them reacting to the self-destruct and the doom it represented. They needed to get it out of there. They needed to save their world, their families, even if it killed them.

Saying goodbye in his heart, knowing he’d never let go. Praying she’d forgive him someday, for leaving.

_It’s been an honor flying with you all._

Tears fall unbidden. “I thought I’d never see her again,” he says quietly. His head is pounding.

His mom kisses his temple.

“I know the pain that you felt,” she says simply. “There are no words for it.” 

And of course she does. Keith knows this, but it’s something else to utter it, to name it.

“Rest now, _urya,”_ the old endearment falls from Krolia's lips in a whisper, her eyes passing over the sleeping girl. “Rest and heal each other.”

~ * ~

_But if you do want to go home, I’ll make sure that’s an option you have._

Pidge hasn’t even hung up the call and Keith is already slipping away. He’s quick, but Shiro equally so.

“Keith—”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he growls over his shoulder. “Can’t.” 

Shiro pursues as Keith storms down the corridor to the hatch release. It opens onto a steamy meadow sparkling with the coral light of the world’s red star.

“We need to talk about it,” Shiro tries again.

“No.” Keith’s arms are bare in his tee shirt as he darts outside into the humid heat. It’s starting to rain, the air cloying and thick with it. Shiro rushes after him.

“Where are you going?” 

No answer.

“Talk to me.”

“Not now—”

“Keith!”

“No!” He turns on Shiro with fire in his eyes. “You don’t wanna hear this. It— it’s ugly, alright?” Keith pants, his eyes taking on a shine that’s more Galra fury than tears. “I’m angry. So- leave it.”

Shiro’s stomach twists. He wants to push, but Keith is right; they’ll say things they don’t mean if he presses now. He pulls up short, reminding himself _patience._ Keith’s look doesn’t soften at all as Shiro relents. If anything, it darkens further.

Keith turns away, headed into the forest in a haze of warm rain.

“Don’t follow me.”

~ * ~

Garrison teams spent phoebs studying the wreckage of the mech that nearly destroyed Earth, puzzling over its origin and eventually discovering the Altean inside.

Ori hardly left her dad’s side in all that time.

But walking into that hanger, holding her daddy’s hand, she knows immediately.

Dark, druidic magic, like the cold white place of her oldest memories. Suffering, hatred, fear. She remembers this magic.

It’s where she came from.

“Daddy,” she murmurs, trembling. “No, please.”

Keith startles, looking down at her in shock. It’s not that he forgets she’s only a child— childhood is many things, _innocence_ not necessarily one of them. The universe isn’t always so kind. But he’s seen Ori face certain doom without a tremor. He crouches to face her.

“What is it, angel? Want to leave?”

She nods tearfully.

Keith turns to the head researcher and Allura, apologetic but firm. He’ll return, and _yes,_ he understands the importance, but his daughter takes precedence.

Outside the hanger, Keith doesn’t stop walking until he feels her relax in his arms. By then, they’re almost a kilometer away.

“Wanna tell me?” Keith combs his fingers through her hair, a flash of white in the brilliant desert sunshine.

“She was there. Before.”

He stills. “Who?”

“The- the one who made the robeast,” she whimpers, “who- also made me.”

Keith doesn’t notice how his grip tightens around his daughter as horror washes over him. “You mean Haggar.”

“Is that her name?” Keith nods against her temple, picturing the lab behind his eyelids. He feels fresh tears sliding against his neck as Ori musters the courage to ask what she must.

“Is she my mother?”

~ * ~

Shiro won’t stop pacing. 

It’s hardly twenty strides from one end of their ship’s living space to the other, but he somehow never arrives where he’s going. He doesn’t settle— doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Several times, Shiro stands under the open hatch in the meadow, staring into the soft rain that hasn’t stopped since Keith left, as though he’s looking for a sign of the man through the warm mist and the trees beyond.

“You’re pacing, papa,” Ori chirps.

Shiro frowns, glancing in her direction. She’s perched atop the wolf’s back where the enormous animal has sprawled across the galley floor. She may as well be riding a pony at his size, and she’s still small for her age.

“Am not,” he mutters under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow irritably. Ori hears him anyway.

“Are too. Have been, for the last half varga,” she chides. “Why aren’t you going after him?”

Maybe teenage years come early to half-Alteans. Shiro meets her eyes cooly, then looks away. It’s not her fault. He will _not_ take this out on her. But neither will he be needled by his daughter over how he conducts his relationship with Keith.

Shiro replies while he watches it rain under a cantaloupe sky. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”

“Ori,” Shiro sighs, shaking his head. “It really isn’t,” he walks over to her, sitting and leaning into the mountain of fur. The wolf huffs a contented sound as Shiro’s weight settles against his flank. Shiro pauses to consider his words.

“Sometimes, when people fight, it’s best to give it time,” he pats her shin through her yellow leggings. “That way, no one says something that they don’t mean, out of anger.”

Ori looks at him, full of calm seriousness. “I understand that,” she says patiently. “You waited already.”

“I’ll wait for your daddy to come back. That means he’s ready to have a conversation.”

Ori shakes her head gently, moonlight hair swaying softly where it frames her face in front, going wavy in the humid air. “There’s such a thing as too much patience, you know.”

He never saw that coming.

“What?”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta fight for what you love,” she says softly. “Daddy fights for you all the time.” Somehow, there’s no judgement in it. It’s a simple fact, one she’s known her whole life.

Shiro’s mouth is dry. Once the words settle in his mind, they won’t leave. Keith, fighting to find him. Fighting to save him. Fighting still, to keep him.

He doesn’t know what to do with the thought. Shiro _is_ fighting for Keith. Hell, it’d be easier to stay— to disappear into a time where he doesn’t have to fight a war, to build the life he wants with the man he loves, and learn everything about his daughter just how he wants to. To really know her, like a father should.

And what if he did stay? He’d be leaving Keith with ten years of pain and strife. Wasn’t staying the selfish thing to do? 

That burden should’ve been his, too, all that time.

Ori crawls closer down the wolf’s back until she’s leaning over Shiro’s shoulder, chin tucked near his collarbone. It’s really too warm to stay long in a pile of wolf and man and girl, but it’s a comfort all the same.

She watches the rain with him as the moment stretches, her voice quiet when she finally speaks.

“You do love him, don’t you?”

Shiro hasn’t even said those words to Keith, but he’s not about to deny the truth of them.

“I do,” he swallows. “Very much.”

Ori nods her head against the muscle of his shoulder, humming sagely.

“Does he know that?”

~ * ~

“Where are we,” Honerva’s voice vibrates with hatred. Ori wants to shrink from it. The Altean woman rests on her knees, panting against a background of sparkling white.

“This is the connected consciousness of all existence,” Princess tells her.

Ori peers past her daddy’s legs and Princess Allura’s beside him to catch a glimpse of the woman she knows to be her mother. Ori would recognize her anywhere from the bitterness of her mind, but she’s never before seen her face.

“You think you’re safe here?” Honerva scoffs. “Soon all will cease to exist.”

“You have to stop this,” Hunk pleads. “All these realities, all these worlds, they deserve to live!”

Ori feels her anguish like a crushing weight. It’s staggering. She can almost see the shape of it, the face of her young son rejecting the monstrous devotion of this stranger who demanded to be called _mother._

“Those realities are flawed and weak,” Honerva growls, her eyes sparkling like white fire. “Living out the same pathetic cycle of war and pain.”

“Not true,” Ori gasps aloud, feeling the paladins around her stiffen as Honerva’s eyes flick over her smaller frame with sudden interest.

“There is beauty in their flaws,” Allura starts to say. Honerva cuts her off.

“Who is this child?” Honerva frowns, her gaze piercing now. “Why do I know her face?”

Keith looks back at Ori with concern.

“You made me,” Ori says softly.

Honerva blinks. “What?”

Ori takes a step forward. She feels her dad’s shock, his desperate fear and need to protect her, but- what risk is there? Either it all ends today, or it doesn’t.

Ori takes another step, walks until she could reach out and touch her. This stranger. Their enemy.

“You’re my… mother.”

~ * ~

The foliage is dense and damp, a palette of mixed reds and greens as Shiro sweeps limbs aside with his bare forearms, its caress slightly cooler than the foggy air.

The canopy above is sparse, red sunlight piercing to the understory and flaring in the water droplets that catch in his eyelashes.

Shiro had left the transport before he could give it a second thought, but he isn’t fumbling entirely blind. He’d at least had the sense to check the ship’s sensors to know the heading and to gauge how far he’d have to go to reach Keith. Kosmo stayed back to look after Ori like the strange nanny-dog he somehow was; Shiro had faith, bestowed in him by Keith, that the wolf would transport their daughter to them at the first sign of trouble.

Following Keith’s heading, Shiro continues through the thicket, soaking him as he weaves his shoulders to slip past brambles along what may have been an animal’s trail once, now disused. 

Ori’s words are in his mind. _Fight for what you love._ And he will. That’s why Shiro will go back, if he can— to be there when Keith needed him. He just needs Keith to understand that.

Shiro tracks the edge of a small stream instinctually, as Keith must have done, until the trees are thinning at the edge of a clearing. He can see Keith pacing through the thin mist, awash in auburn light and pulling at his hair where it slips free from its braid. 

Shiro takes stock before he makes himself known. If Keith’s anger has dissipated at all, it’s not by much. He’s too far away to see the man’s face but his body language is roiling with hurt. Far from tempting him to bolt, Shiro finds he wants to run to him, lift his pain away.

Shiro steps into the clearing, his footfalls whisper-quiet on soft earth.

“Keith?” he calls to him.

Keith whips around to look at Shiro, his eyes wide and dark. 

“I said not to follow me.” Keith says it low like a warning, but if Shiro’s any judge then his heart isn’t in the words. He hears Keith’s voice wobble even as he spots the leftover shine of tear tracks on the man’s face.

“I had to,” Shiro says. “You’re too important to me.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “And yet you want to leave.”

“I don’t _want_ to leave.”

“You’re a shit liar, Shiro.”

“I—” he hesitates. “I’m not lying, Keith. I want to be here. But I think Pidge is right. Maybe I don’t _belong_ here. If I’d been in my time, things could have been different. I owe you that.”

Keith’s expression shutters so fast that it sends a chill down Shiro’s spine.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want different. I want this— I want _us.”_

“Keith, we want the same thing!”

“Do we?” Keith’s voice is too high and sharp. “Why do you think you have to go back? You think you could’ve done better?”

“I never said that,” Shiro frowns. “You know I’m so proud of you,” he takes a step to close the distance, but Keith falls back a step of his own as his expression darkens further.

“Then why?” Keith shouts.

“Because while I was lost in time, you were fighting for your life!” Something in Shiro snaps as the words pour out of him. “And her life, and everyone’s! You were saving the fucking universe, and I- I should have been there,” Shiro bites off. He’s not sure it’s coming out right, but then these feelings have been boiling under pressure behind his ribs for too long. He let Keith down.

“What if I could have made a difference? What if I could be there, to fight for you- like you fought so long for me? And knowing what the Garrison did, I could stop it—”

“Oh, that easy, huh?—”

“—So our daughter wouldn’t have to live her life as a fugitive!” Shiro barks.

Keith takes another step back toward the tree line, eyeing Shiro critically through rakish fall of his bangs, heavy with rain in the fiery light. “You think you could fix it.”

“Maybe,” Shiro heaves a breath in frustration. “Yes, I think I could. And we could be together, all those years! I’d be at your side when we find Ori. I could- I could watch her grow up, Keith.”

“You want to make it perfect,” Keith says quietly. It’s the softest accusation Shiro’s ever heard. It needles him. 

“Is that so wrong?”

“Yes, Shiro.”

“What?”

“Yes, it is wrong. It’s selfish.”

“Keith—”

“—No, you listen to me,” Keith scolds. “Let this go. I won’t let you play with our timeline! We could lose everything! I could lose my _daughter,_ we could lose the war, and I could _still_ lose you!”

Shiro bites his lip. He reaches for Keith’s shoulder cautiously, the way he might approach a wounded animal. Keith eyes him but lets him approach. “I wouldn’t let that happen, Keith.”

“Shit happens,” Keith glares up at him, but doesn’t swat his hand away. That’s something, at least. “You should know that better than anyone. All we have is today. And if we’re _very lucky,_ we get tomorrow too. We can’t touch yesterday. We shouldn’t. It’s… it’s monstrous.” 

Shiro’s spine pulls taut at that, ripping the breath from his lungs as his hand falls from Keith’s shoulder. 

_Monster. He thinks you’re a monster._

“I- I didn’t know you’d see it like that.”

“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” Keith growls, turning away with a flip of his sodden hair.

Shiro reaches without thinking, catching Keith’s wrist firmly in his metal grip. “That’s my point! What if I’d been there?” he pleads. “Just- picture it. Indulge me.”

Keith sighs, eyes on the ground. But he’s listening.

“What if I’d never gone missing?”

Silently, Keith reaches for his own face, trailing his knuckles softly over the long scar on his face. Something happened there. Something terrible. Something Shiro would give anything to change. Keith sees him watching and lowers his hand.

“Who did this to you?” Shiro asks.

Keith scowls in his direction before looking away. “Really bad timing, Shiro.”

“It’s always a bad time, though,” he presses. “I know it was important. I know you think about it, more often than you’d admit. Why don’t you want me to know?”

Keith studies their boots.

“Is it something you would change, if you could?”

Keith looks him square in the eyes, then. “You manipulative son of a bitch.”

Shiro balks. “Excuse me?”

“Is this a game you’re playing, right now?” Keith gestures between the two of them with disdain. “Some score you wanna settle? Because I’m not playing. I’m sorry you have regrets, Shiro. It’s a bitter pill, one you’ll have to swallow. The things that hurt me? They’re in the past. I intend to leave them there.”

Keith moves to free himself, but Shiro tightens his grip. “Your past, Keith, that- that’s my future,” he sighs. “You see that, don’t you? You want me to let those years go? I need to know what really happened.”

Keith rolls his shoulders, fighting the urge to wrest his arm free. “Hell, you know it’ll take another ten years to catch you up. Listen to yourself, Shiro. Give it time.”

“Start now, with the scar.”

“Why,” Keith grits his teeth.

“Because it’s the one story you don’t want me to hear,” Shiro accuses. “And I need to know why.”

Keith moves to break Shiro’s grip on his wrist, but Shiro only uses the movement to back him up against the trunk of a tree. It’s enough to startle Keith to a halt, if not to hold him there for any length of time.

Shiro stares straight into his eyes. “Stop protecting my feelings. Tell me the truth.”

“Let me go,” Keith moves like he’ll buck him off, but it’s half-hearted at best. Keith goes strangely still, his eyes a bit too wide.

Shiro’s grip is like a vice now where his Galra forearm is pressed hard across Keith’s chest, pinning him back. “Give me something here, dammit. Anything.”

“Or what?” Keith grits out bitterly. “You wanna hold a knife to my throat, too, while I tell you? That’d really complete the picture,” he seethes.

Shiro’s jaw hangs loose. He looks down at himself, at his weaponized arm that’s no doubt bruising Keith’s pecs. He drops the hold at once, lurching backward like he’s been burned.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Keith. I never—”

Shiro looks at the scar like he’s never seen it before. He suddenly knows.

“No,” Shiro whispers, taking another step away from Keith. He feels rainwater slide from his forelock down the side of his nose as the realization sets in. “The clone, he- I—”

Keith’s expression flashes with concern. “Shiro, wait. Hey,” Keith reaches for him.

Shiro looks down at the smooth plates of the arm the druids built for him, elegant in its brutality. It was a reward for his success, a treat from his jailers for a job well done.

They didn’t make him a killer. With time and opportunity, he had proved himself all on his own.

“I did that to you,” Shiro breathes. 

“Not you,” Keith shakes his head, water sliding through his fringe at the sudden movement. His voice sounds far away and sad. “Not him, either. It was mind control, you hear me?” Keith cups his cheek, as though Shiro is the one who should be comforted. Like he deserves that. It doesn’t feel like he does.

“Honerva knew he could lure me away from the others,” Keith winces as he says it, guilt lining his face. “I left them in danger, to go after you. I had to go after you. When you’re in trouble, it’s like— like I can’t think of anything else,” he confesses with a sigh. “He was meant to kill me. Nearly succeeded.”

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice shakes. “Why didn’t you tell me? You told me he died. I- I never imagined that you had to kill him.”

Keith’s eyes snap to his and burn like wildfire. “No. No, don’t you ever fucking say that. I didn’t kill him. I would die for him.”

“Then how...” Shiro frowns as his eyes graze over scarred flesh. He doesn’t dare move to touch, though he wants to.

“Dammit,” Keith curses. His fingertips press over the length of that vicious scar as he shuts his eyes tightly, gathering his strength. “I fought you- your clone, until I couldn’t stand. He held me down with his energy sword. That’s what this is. I was going to die. I’d never get another chance. So I told the truth.”

Shiro can’t breathe all of a sudden, staring mutely as Keith opens his eyes to find his face.

“I needed you to know that I love you.”

The words scorch through Shiro’s every nerve, the horror of that moment. “No—”

_“I LOVE YOU,”_ Keith shouts. “And I fought for your life with everything I had. I severed your arm, my last chance of saving you,” Keith shakes with fury. It’s not clear when Keith switched in his mind from _clone_ to _Shiro_ himself. Maybe that’s the point. To Keith, they were the same.

_That’s three times I lost you._

“When the platform collapsed, I couldn’t let you go. I fell with you. Black came for us in time, but there was nothing I could do for you,” Keith’s voice breaks. “There was nothing left for me to save.”

Shiro looks on helplessly as tears fall from Keith’s eyes. He knows what it costs Keith to bare this memory for him to hear. But there was no alternative, he needed to know.

Shiro wants so much to comfort him. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come.

“If it was only _my_ life,” Keith’s voice strains far to high, wavering as it crests, “or even _yours—_ fuck, Shiro. I’d let you go. I’d never stop you from doing what _you_ need, no- no matter if it kills me.”

Shiro’s ears ring as his jaw snaps shut.

“But it’s not just you and me. Going back there risks _my daughter’s life!”_ Keith screams the words. “Can’t you see that?”

“But—”

“Pidge has no bloody idea how it’ll affect the timeline. She has theories. She doesn’t _know—_ can’t know. And I will not let you risk Ori’s existence.”

Shiro feels himself shaking. It’s shock, and hurt, and shame. He never thought- he’d never really considered—

“You can’t do this. I- I won’t let you, Shiro. I’ll stop you, if you try it. Don’t make me stop y-you—”

Keith crumples to his knees in the field.

“Keith—”

“Don’t make me…”

Shiro goes to him. There are no words for this, for the heave of Keith’s chest against Shiro’s heart as he sobs openly at his neck. There are no words, only the press of the man he loves in his arms.

Shiro holds on and doesn’t let go.

~ * ~

“You’re my… mother,” Ori tells her.

She feels Honerva searching, probing her quintessence for the trick or the lie. There’s no time for that. Ori reaches out and touches the woman’s face.

Memories flash to her mind in living color. Ori sees what Honerva saw back then— back when she was Haggar, the sorceress and scientist with a golden glare and an icy touch. The woman remembers the samples, tanks and tubes, dim and miserable sparks of life, none of them strong and proud like their Champion had been.

There was one spark that burned bright, a curiosity at most. There was no attachment, no recognition of _child._ Honerva’s awakened mind reels in disgust as the memory washes over.

Ori’s memories fill the space, images of waking to the face of the man who would be her dad, the first person to show her love. All the paladins, her family and friends. Her lessons with the Princess, her kinship with quintessence, with the crystal who became Atlas.

Her search for a father she never knew. Her pain over her mother’s ambitions.

“I- I have a daughter?”

“You did,” Keith’s voice breaks. “You do.”

Honerva’s eyes are wide like shimmering pools catching the light. Her lip trembles.

“All this time, all these realities… I’ve never had a daughter. I’ve searched countless universes for my family, for a place where we could be happy together, but you were here. Here all along.”

“Stop this. Save her,” Keith grits out.

“You are the only one,” Honerva continues as if in a daze. “What is your name, child?”

“Shiori,” she murmurs. 

“A lovely name for a beautiful, powerful girl.” Honerva’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I did you wrong. You deserved so much better.”

“There’s still time,” Allura says.

“Stop this madness,” Hunk pleads. “Would you do it for her? For your own daughter?”

“You don’t understand,” Honerva’s expression slips from wonder into grief. “The damage is done. I am… sorry.”

“I can show you how, Mother,” Ori murmurs, feeling bashful. It’s strange sometimes, the things adults don’t know. “Princess taught me. We must give life, not take it away.”

Honerva blinks back, startled. “But that would require power. More than yours and mine. Something much greater.”

“Wait,” Pidge edges forward, “the lions, they’re saying—”

Ori turns to watch as a deep knowledge washes over all the paladins. Her daddy’s face falls in sorrow even as he nods.

“It’s the lions,” daddy says. “They are ready to go. They believe it is the only way.”

“Their power,” Allura agrees, “and that of Honerva’s vessel, too. Together this should be enough to reignite the spark of the multiverse. But I fear one of us must stay and see it through.”

Suddenly daddy’s there, crouching by her side, his strong hands at her waist.

“Angel,” he says with tears standing in his eyes. “Tell me you’re coming back with us. Please, I- I can’t lose you.” _I can’t lose you, too._

“We have to save those worlds, daddy—”

“—Peace,” Honerva says, rising to her feet. “I will do it. The girl must show me, but that is enough. I will restore all realities if I can… but especially this one.”

Ori watches the tears fall from Keith’s eyes, looking up at Honerva like he can’t find the words. His enemy, the greatest evil he’s ever known, found something precious enough to save.

“It is the least I can do,” Honerva says, “for my daughter.”

~ * ~

The rain continues slow and soft; it takes time to soak Shiro through as thoroughly as it had Keith. Huddled in Shiro’s arms on his knees, Keith cries until he’s empty.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Keith whispers, fists balling in the material of Shiro’s shirt at his back.

“I won’t fight you,” Shiro croaks out, his voice ruined. “I won’t stand against you, Keith. Never—” he cuts himself off with a grimace. 

“I didn’t know,” Shiro mutters. It feels inadequate. He tries again, nuzzling into Keith’s wet hair. “I didn’t know what you’d been through. But if it was reckless of me to think of going back, don’t think it means I don’t _care._ It was always to get back to you.”

Keith is quiet for a long time. Shiro starts to wonder if he will stay silent, if he’s too spent to carry on, until Keith pulls away and scrubs at his eyes with his knuckles.

“I’ve risked it all to get you back,” Keith says quietly. “More than once. I put everyone in danger, desperate to find you, to follow you. I told you once, whatever it takes. I meant every word.” 

Shiro pets his hand down Keith’s arm, slick with rain. He’s not sure if he means to sooth Keith or himself, but he can’t stop touching him. Keith grounds him; he always has.

“But in the end, that’s what Honerva tried to do, and… it was selfish and wrong. I was wrong. And so are you.”

Shiro’s heart squeezes in his chest.

Keith’s eyes drift past Shiro’s shoulder into the peach haze.

“We confronted Honerva in the zenith. We all tried to get through to her, but it was seeing Ori that did it. Honerva had searched the other realities, seeking the _perfect_ one with her perfect, intact family. But nowhere was there anyone like our girl.”

Shiro feels his jaw hang slack at Keith’s words. _Nowhere._

“Can you imagine that? Something so precious she’s unique in all of existence.”

“I can,” Shiro feels the tug of an awed smile as he reaches for Keith’s face, brushing flesh fingers through Keith’s tangled hair. Keith leans his temple into the touch.

“Maybe you’re here now for a reason, Shiro. Maybe this is where you needed to be. Where we needed you.”

“Fate, huh?” Shiro huffs a gentle laugh. “That doesn’t sound like you.” 

“Maybe not,” Keith laughs while his eyes shine with standing tears, “but what am I supposed to think? Black sent you to us. There’s no other explanation.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Shiro grazes his metal fingers over what’s left of Keith’s braid, settling his hand at the nape of the man’s neck.

Keith’s brow furrows as he looks down. “I hated her- Honerva. For what she did to you. How she abandoned her creations to die. She was ready to burn it all down, every reality and all the lives in each, because she couldn’t have her happy ending. But…”

Shiro studies him. “What is it?”

Keith shakes his head. “I thought I’d never forgive her. But then I did, in a way. When she chose to undo what she’d done, to save this child that she’d never known, who was… a piece of her. The best of her.”

Shiro never met Honerva, not as she was; he still sees the witch Haggar in his mind. But he tries to picture it, all the same. And how could anyone look on their girl, see something so miraculous come from yourself, and not be changed by it?

“Honerva chose Ori’s life,” Keith’s voice strains. “If she hadn’t, Ori would have had to s-stay to- to—”

“Shh,” Shiro kneads his fingers over the top of Keith’s spine trying to catch Keith’s eyes. “That didn’t happen.”

“Could’ve,” Keith sighs. “I almost lost her. I wanted you back every day,” Keith’s voice strains. “But how can I live in a world where she doesn’t get to grow up?”

“Then we won’t,” Shiro answers.

Keith’s eyes flick up to meet his. “You mean that?” The skepticism almost hurts. “I’m asking, Shiro. Please stay. Let this be enough.”

“I’m staying, Keith,” Shiro pulls him closer until their foreheads press together. It pulls a ragged whimper from Keith’s throat.

“Listen,” Shiro licks his lips, “I never thought I’d be a father. Never thought I’d live long enough. You gave me that, Keith- you let me into her orbit with you and the life you’ve built. It’s precious, it’s _everything._ I shouldn’t want for more.”

Shiro feels his face flush with emotion as Keith pulls back to see his face.

“If I’m guilty of anything, it’s wanting it all. I want everything I missed. But then I wouldn’t be here right now, and that’s what matters.”

Keith studies his face, looking for the doubt, the hesitation. He won’t find any. 

“Whatever happens, Keith, we’ll face it together. You’re the end of the line for me.”

Keith’s eyes blow wide.

“I love you,” Shiro murmurs. “So damn much. In any reality- in _every_ one, I’m sure of it. I love you, Keith. And I love—” Shiro’s voice wobbles and he swallows thickly. “I love our daughter.”

“Shiro,” Keith says his name on a sob as their lips tangle. There’s a hint of sharp teeth in the kiss, something desperate clawing its way out of each of them and into the space between.

“I’m here, Keith,” Shiro breathes against his lips. “I’ll always be right here.”

~ * ~

Ori has heard the lions in her mind before, but never like this. The bond descends on them, brilliant and overpowering. And held inside that spectral embrace, Ori feels Honerva’s mind and her own meeting.

In a breath, Ori gives her mother everything she knows. How to use quintessence to create, just as the Princess taught her. Life is full of subtlety, butit helps to want it with all your heart. Honerva does, and when she feels it spark a shiver runs through her— the relief that it will not end here. 

Once it begins, she nurtures it, helps it grow.

_I understand now,_ her mother says. _You’ve opened the door. Now I will hold it for you._

Ori hesitates.

_You must go now, child._

_Maybe you can come with us?_ She finds herself asking. She knows better. She knows that isn’t how this works. But she wants.

_I cannot,_ she replies. _But you will grow up. You will have your family._

_Will you make me a promise?_

_Anything you wish._

_Don’t change things,_ Ori thinks the words with all her heart. _Flaws don’t make it imperfect. This is exactly the reality we need._

Honerva pauses. _I have changed only this._

Honerva shows her the worlds, Daibazaal and Altea of old— resurrected but unpeopled, like a blank page in a story yet to be written. With it, Ori feels resentment release her mother’s heart.

_I don’t expect you can forgive me for what I have done, only—_

_No, mother,_ Ori thinks as she feels herself fading. _I do forgive you._

_Go, my child._

~ * ~

Shiro hauls Keith to his feet, pulling a startled sound from the man’s lips.

“C’mon,” Shiro murmurs, eyes locked on Keith’s kiss-reddened mouth. “Need you back on the ship.” What he needs is to shove Keith on a bed and lock the door for at least an hour.

Shiro finds his back against a tree, breath leaving him in a huff as Keith leans into him.

“Need you now,” Keith says with a nip at his lips. “Right now.”

It’s dirty, how those words lurch right to Shiro’s lap as Keith is already fumbling for Shiro’s trousers. 

Shiro bites his lip. “Here?” he pants in the foggy air, breathless between kisses.

When Keith grins, it’s sharper than usual, possessive and claiming. “Here.”

Keith’s hands are a revelation, full of desperation and discovery like the first time. Clothes drip as Keith strips them away. The orange haze is warm and thick like a blanket.

Shiro shudders as Keith mouths over the tender skin hugging his ribs and the cut of his hipbones. He nips with sharp teeth at the meat between Shiro’s thighs, pulling little mewls from Shiro’s mouth as his legs open further in invitation. Keith grabs at him roughly, moves Shiro where he wants him until his cheek and chest press against the smooth vermillion bark.

Shiro goes pliant against the tree as Keith takes a handful of his ass with a hum of approval. That sound lights up Shiro’s nerves in anticipation. Keith knows just how to undo him with his tongue.

Shiro loses himself to the sensation. Drifting in pleasure, he lets himself feel what it is to be here, now, in this time.

_Staying._

_He’s staying._

Keith has always felt like home. Maybe it shouldn’t knock the wind out of him now, but it does. This miracle he was handed, he thought it was just a taste and a tease of what could be. The family he could have. He thought surely he’d have to earn it first.

Every minute was precious, in part because it was stolen— but it wasn’t. It was a gift. He won’t ever have to give it back.

Shiro doesn’t feel himself crying until Keith is there, turning him and kissing the tears from his face, salt mixed softly with rain. He steadies him against the tree. Keith doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask why— he knows why.

“Please,” Shiro pants.

Keith scoffs gently. “You’re not ready, let me—”

“I am,” Shiro insists. He feels his face heat at Keith’s skeptical look, screwing up his courage to ask for what he needs. “Want to feel everything.”

Keith’s hand slows and stutters as his pupils fan wide, leaving Shiro naked in the most intimate way. 

_“Oh.”_ Keith’s breath hitches on the sound.

Then Keith moves, and it’s not what Shiro expected. Keith lifts him right off his feet with a yelp, wedged firmly against the tree. Shiro clings on instinct, squeezing his thighs around Keith’s waist as Keith maneuvers his arms, one after another, under Shiro’s thick thighs.

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes as he feels Keith settle against him. Shiro knows he’s not small; never in his life has a lover handled him like this.

“I’ve got you,” Keith whispers at Shiro’s throat, and the words seer through him as Shiro feels the stretch and the burn of Keith claiming him. He feels it all. 

_I know._

~ * ~

For a moment, all of existence collapses to a single spark. But from that spark burst a thousand-trillion strands of light. Each one is a reality, each teeming with life as though the brink of existence had never come so near.

There’s no way of knowing whether Honerva succeeded— whether she had the power to restore every single strand of the multiverse, every hair on every space wolf’s head— but Ori feels the echo of creation long and slow in her mind and knows that Honerva did her best.

“Did- did she do it?” Hunk squeaks aloud. They’re on Atlas, all of them together on the bridge. “Did it work?” He runs his hands up and down his own arms as if to be sure for himself it’s all real.

The bridge officers blink in surprise at the paladins standing there like they’d been there all along. As Veronica rises from her seat and lunges to hug her brother, the other officers send up an elated cheer.

Keith takes a knee on the captain’s platform, clutching his daughter to his chest.

“Ori,” he whispers into her hair, his voice thick with tears. “You did so well, sweetheart.”

~ * ~

Keith and Shiro make their way back to the shuttle, more than a little rumpled in their wrung-out clothes. Shiro can’t stop turning to look at Keith’s meek smile, maybe a little abashed but incandescently happy.

They find Ori playing with her magic in the field where they set the ship down. Kosmo plays with her, bounding after the girl as swirls of quintessence stream gently behind her. She sees her dads step into the clearing and smiles in their direction, no comment needed.

Shiro thinks he could die of embarrassment, face hot, if Keith’s grip on his hand weren’t contributing at least half of his confidence. But Ori doesn’t seem the least bit unhappy about her dads making up, whatever she knows of it just from looking at the state they’re in.

Keith slows to a stop, watching her play. The game seems something like tag, and the wolf’s teleportation seems an unfair advantage— until Shiro watches with his own eyes as the girl blinks away for a tic, only to reappear giggling under the hatch meters from the wolf. Kosmo hardly misses a beat, blinking to her side and nudging her for scritches like a consolation prize.

“She can teleport?” Shiro swallows.

“Never seen that before,” Keith squeaks.

Shiro laughs, full-throated and warm. “Well, I guess I didn’t miss _all_ to surprises, after all,” he howls, ribs shaking with laughter.

Keith tosses him a smile that could start wars, or end them. He pats Shiro’s arm.

“Welcome to parenthood.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise tooth-rotting sweetness, did I not?
> 
> Art of Ori by [Anka](https://twitter.com/kaa05n2), isn't she [beautiful](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero/status/1274357299117649925)?! ♡

Keith and Ori settled on New Daibazaal after a deca-phoeb on the run from the Garrison. It felt longer than that. Keith found a lease he liked along a remote coastline, far from major hubs and prying eyes.

It doesn’t hurt that the locals are deeply private folk who don’t question the Black Paladin’s desire for a discreet, quiet life after the war.

The home has been vacant for a while. The Galra consider the place cramped, quaint, unfashionable. Keith considers it a veritable mansion, remembering the old dusty shack with a stab of nostalgia. Even with an enormous wolf, this is more than enough. They don’t need much.

What he likes most are the floor-to ceiling windows in the main living space, like an observation deck. He imagines it to be a ship sometimes, ready to take off for the stars— but taking home _with_ them, this time.

The red mountains against lavender dawn catch his breath daily, and the view of the heavens can’t be beat anywhere planet-side.

Keith keeps their humble transport in good repair in case they have to make a quick getaway, but they settle. At last, they rest.

Keith's new hoverbike is their lifeline, for running errands and getting Ori to her new school. She whoops and whistles as she clings to his back and leans into turns just how he taught her. He’s not reckless with his girl, but Keith knows his limits. They _fly,_ laughter unbounded and free.

It’s a simple life, but it’s everything Keith needs. He’s happy. He hasn’t felt whole like this for so long— not since his dad was alive and life was uncomplicated and good.

He was happy when Shiro first came into his life, in his one year as a cadet before everything went to shit again. But Keith was still angry then, still hurting. It’d be a lie to pretend otherwise— and thankfully, Shiro didn’t expect him to pretend.

And if happiness veered within range again for a time, life and loss got in the way. Shiro couldn’t protect him from that. Not for lack of trying, but the hits kept coming.

The paladins were a balm when he needed it most. Keith knows he’d have never made it through those years without his found family, and the family he _literally_ found. Krolia, Kosmo, Ori. He’s shared happiness with them all, delight and wonder and pride at what they’ve done— at who they’ve become, together.

But this time on New Daibazaal is different from all of that.

Keith breathes deep, feeling the fullness in his lungs and the wholeness of his heart, looking at his daughter and knowing she is his entire world.

On the five year anniversary of the end of the war, the Atlas won't transform. Keith hears of it through various channels. The Blades, who don’t officially know where he is. His friends, all of them tight-lipped in their dealings with Garrison interests.

No one speaks of the Black Paladin and the missing, magical girl.

~ * ~

Arus is just as beautiful as Shiro remembers.

Their blocky Coalition transport is still home for the time being, with a lean-to awning that Shiro has become quite adept at rigging at this point. They like having an outdoor kitchen in one half, and the other half is known as the ‘craft zone’ which is a minefield of kid-related objects.

Keith is the first to point out that they can still cut and run quickly, and yes he will take off without a single thought about their cookware, games or toys. Anything too precious to lose _will_ be kept inside the transport, _have I made myself clear._

They talk to Pidge. They both expect she’ll be frustrated, maybe disappointed, but its quite the opposite. She tears up with joy.

_“You’re staying with us?”_ she swipes her palms over her eyes roughly. _“Ah this space dust is killing me.”_

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you on Earth?”

_“About that,”_ Pidge grins. _“Dad left the Garrison. I mean, we all did. We’ll be settled on Olkarion in two quintants.”_

“Wow!” Shiro blinks, laughing. “Pidge, that’s perfect for you. And gosh, Colleen is going to love it!”

_“Yeah,”_ Pidge sighs contentedly. _“I mean, it’s hard on them to leave their home. I’ve had some practice, as mom LOVES to remind me,”_ Pidge snarks. _“But it was time to try something new.”_

Keith nods. “Well, you’re welcome anytime. You know, to visit.”

Pidge’s golden eyes soften. _“Soon,”_ she smiles.

It’s the first of a bunch of vid calls, catching up with everyone once they finally have a chance to breathe.

Everyone has news. Hunk still has his family on Earth, but he and Shay have something going and he spends more time in this quadrant than ever before. Allura and Lance’s family are nearby on Altea.

Shiro and Keith keep encouraging them to visit. They all reply the same way.

_“Soon.”_

Hunk pings them early one morning. Keith has barely had his first cup of not-coffee and his bangs are doing novel things with the concept of gravity, but Keith moves to answer it regardless. It’s not like Hunk hasn’t seen him in a rumpled state before. And with the pile of them together in the galley in their mismatched pajamas, Keith and his askew bangs fit right in. Even Kosmo is looking groggy this morning.

_“Uh, good morning!”_ Hunk’s cheery voice booms over the open channel, his image flickering from the mobile hologram emitter. _“Oh my goodness, hi Ori!”_

“Uncle Hunk!” she announces with a gleeful wave.

_“Ha, well, was gonna just surprise you, but thought I’d better call first so y’all don’t totally freak out when you detect me in orbit.”_ He scratches at his temple with a shy smile.

Keith sits up, alert at once. “You’re here right now?”

_“Oh yeah,”_ Hunk chuckles, _“we’re here alright.”_

Proximity alarms start up in the cockpit as a ship moves in range. Shiro darts over to shut them off, spotting not one but four ships inbound.

“Oh, shit,” he laughs before following Keith and Kosmo outside under the wide, blue Arus sky. Ori’s already there, trying to spot the ship.

Shiro folds Keith into his arms and looks up. It takes a while, but before long Keith picks out the dot of a craft entering the atmosphere in a bloom of flame, pointing to help Ori find it, too. And slowly, three more ships can be seen. Keith gasps, his excitement growing. It’s the best kind of surprise.

Ori leans into Keith’s legs, content to wait and watch with her parents, soaking up their joy.

As they draw closer, Shiro studies the strange ships. One is Hunk’s Space Jeep, a custom design influenced by Galra tech as much anything else; Shiro knew about it because Hunk was very proud of his baby, and had sent pictures. There’s an Altean craft, sleek and blue— must be Allura and Lance, and the kids. Then an Olkari transport, likely the Holts. And then this other ship, larger than the others but still compact, sleek. Shiro has never seen anything like it. It seems to combine elements of all those other designs, a kind of synergy.

Hunk hops down from the bigger ship, smiling.

“So, um,” he laughs, “surprise!”

Keith closes the distance, hugging Hunk deeply. Shiro can’t hear what he says to him but his heart swells at the sight. Pidge breaks Shiro’s focus, launching herself into Shiro’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” she mutters, gripping him hard.

Then Lance is there, piling onto the embrace. “Took you long enough,” Lance accuses as he clings, tears standing in his eyes.

Hunk’s bear hugs are legendary, and Shiro finds he wants nothing less. Then Ori is lifted up onto the man’s shoulders with a happy squeal.

Allura waits her turn, taking Shiro in her arms like he’s something precious. “Welcome home,” she says in a knowing tone. Turning to Lance, they introduce the twins before they get the chance to try and disappear into the brush with their favorite cousin; Luki and Var are literal Altean royalty, and they both look at Ori like she hung the moon.

“You know you could’ve told us you were coming,” Shiro laughs as the twins go to mob Pidge next. “We could have at least gone shopping.”

“Oh, pish posh,” Allura laughs. “You’ve had a long journey. We thought we might bring the festivities to you.”

“Plus we all know Hunk brings the feast,” Lance laughs. “You can’t argue with tradition!”

“Besides,” Hunk interjects, “the whole point was to help you three get settled.” He takes a step to the side with Ori still on his shoulders, and Shiro and Keith follow his gaze to the larger ship.

“Wait,” Keith says.

“No way—” Shiro reels.

“Hear me out,” Hunk says, “she’s a lot more than meets the eye. She’s a great ship, long range, _fast._ But I think you’ll _really_ like the ground mode,” he glances at Keith. “So many windows. Of course the views around here are fantastic; I’m sure you’ll scope out the perfect spot.”

Keith gapes. Shiro finds himself staring at Keith, hoping to follow his lead. He really can’t process that this gorgeous ship is for them.

“For us?” Ori’s voice is bright like a bell and soft with wonder.

“You bet,” Hunk bounces her, his chocolate eyes sparkling. “And this way, you guys can bring your home with you when it’s time to hit the road, wherever you go.”

“This is too much,” Keith rasps, overwhelmed.

“It’s not. We all pooled,” Hunk sweeps his arms toward their gathered friends. “And I was kinda already working on her before Shiro turned up, so I hope it’s not too small. There was only so much I could change once the materials were ordered. But then you’ve been living in that rust bucket! Think of it as, like, a starter home? You’ll need to upsize, maybe, but until then…” Hunk trails off, self-consciousness creeping in on the heels of his ramble, looking back and forth between his friends’ dumbfounded faces. “Um, say something?”

“It’s incredible,” Shiro gasps, shaking his head in disbelief. He grabs Hunk’s shoulder, draping his free arm around Keith’s waist. “Thank you.”

“Holy shit, thank you,” Keith mutters, ears reddening. He has to cover his mouth with his hand.

Shiro kisses Keith’s temple, prompting awws he might not have been prepared for, but he’s too overwhelmed by the gift to actually mind. Shiro turns back to Hunk.

“Will you give us the tour?”

“Will I!” Hunk beams.

It’s an indescribable feeling, stepping onto their ship. Ori holds Hunk’s hand while he explains the smart design and all the details he’s most proud of. Shiro runs his fingers over the bulkhead in one of the two cabins, paneled in something like bamboo. The effect is inviting and warm. Keith stares up at the sky through the observation port overhead.

In the cockpit, two shapely seats stand side by side, and a jumper seat nearby. Lance immediately demonstrates that the seats swivel while Var eggs him on from her dad’s lap. Lance has fully activated _dad mode,_ it seems, and Shiro amuses himself imagining asking _Lance_ for parenting advice.

Keith tries the other seat, and hums contentedly as he runs his hands over the primary controls.

“Okay, you two can get acquainted later,” Hunk teases, “but you haven’t seen the best part.” He reaches past Keith’s shoulder and flips a few switches. Keith’s eyes flare wide as they feel something shifting nearby, a low hum of moving parts. “Come see.”

As he leads them back to the central living area, the outer hull peels back on both sides like a curved shell, exposing all those windows Hunk was talking about. They run the length of the main body of the ship on both sides, leaving a panoramic view.

“The wings form a shelter, like a patio outside, when they aren’t armor-plating the hull. The whole thing’s designed to maximize the natural light while you’re planet-side, but if you open ‘er up in deep space there are solar sails you can deploy.”

“For what?” Keith cocks his head, unfamiliar, while Shiro’s expression goes dreamy.

Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “For sailing.”

~ * ~

Hunk’s catering know-how certainly has a way of transforming any space, but everybody helps set up for their little party. An enormous tree in an ordinary meadow becomes the backdrop for an intimate feast at a big round table where they are all equals. Even the littlest among them have boosters to enjoy company with the grown-ups.

The day is waning, the light golden as they pass plates and join in a chorus of _what’s in this one_ and _oh, I have to try some of that._

“Let’s have a toast,” Allura says, raising her glass, “to being together again at last. Shiro, I can’t say how much I’ve missed you.”

Shiro feels his eyes prickle. He doesn’t feel exactly the same— to him, they were all together just a couple phoebs ago on the Castle of Lions, but he is still mourning the years he missed.

“It’s good to be back,” he answers.

Lance raises his glass, too. “Keith, I hope you know that I chipped in extra for the soundproofing onboard— Ow!” Allura elbows him mercilessly while Keith rolls his eyes and Shiro blushes down his neck. “I’m serious, have you ever heard a Galra snore?” Lance squeaks, rubbing a hand over the spot where her elbow got him. “To companionship,” he says, that wry smile firmly back in place.

Far from glaring at the blue paladin, Keith throws him an indulgent grin as he gestures with his glass.

Pidge catches Shiro’s eye. “Mom and Dad were bummed they couldn’t make the trip, what with the resettling and all. They’ll come next time. I still remember my dad telling me you were like family, back before I really knew you. He’d have adopted you by now, if you’d been around.” Pidge thinks for a moment before raising her glass. “To new beginnings.”

“And old friends,” Hunk smiles. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the lions. How they looked after us, protected us. How they’re helping us even now.” His eyes settle on Shiro. “I guess Black knew what she was doing,” he huffs a laugh. “I think you’re here right when you needed to be.”

Shiro feels Keith’s hand curl around his metal one.

“To home,” Keith says, tracking Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro breathes out, turning to look at each of their faces. “To family,” his says, “especially the one we find.”

Glasses clink. Shiro gives in and kisses the love of his life.

The four year-olds are more interested in sloshing juice from their cups than anything else, but Ori speaks up. “And to the house-ship!” she giggles. “When can we go on an adventure, Daddy?”

“Anytime,” Keith breathes. “Like a turtle, with our house on our backs.”

Ori looks like she’s sounding out the word _turtle,_ when Pidge adds, “You know, it kind of _looks_ like a turtle. I mean, if you squint.”

Shiro and Keith look back over their shoulders, tilting their heads to try and see it.

“More of a beetle, really,” Shiro wonders aloud. Keith spits out a mouthful of his space wine, coughing through a laugh.

Hunk just laughs. “Eye of the beholder, I guess.”

~ * ~

“I think that’s everything,” Keith calls. Shiro meets him at the old transport’s hatch under a clear Arus sky. He takes the opportunity to steal a kiss. Keith leans into it, humming against his lips.

“Mm,” Keith purrs, “you keep distracting me and this’ll take a whole movement.”

“I’ve got all the time in the universe,” Shiro teases, deepening the kiss.

Keith recovers from his swoon, pressing Shiro back firmly.

“C’mon,” he laughs, “let’s sleep in our new bed tonight.”

“Okay, you have a point,” Shiro surrenders.

Keith hoists their kitchen crate easily, despite the fair amount of canned goods, and sets it with the others to take up the rise to the spot where they’ve parked their new place. Most of what they own, apparently, is food and cooking equipment. Shiro’s not sure if Hunk would be proud or actually quite disturbed to know this, considering they’re both only tolerable cooks. 

“Bedroom?” Keith scrapes his bangs out of his eyes.

“Done,” Shiro says. “Oh! I forgot the closet.”

Keith squints at him. “Um, what closet?”

“You know, the, uh, cubby? Head of the bed in the cabin,” Shiro scratches his fingers through his hair where it’s getting too long in the back again. He’s almost got the knack for cutting it himself at this point, so long as Keith’s there to help him finish the back.

“Oh,” Keith shrugs. “I haven’t touched that in forever.” Shiro is already sliding past him into the shuttle.

“I’ll just take a quick peek.”

There isn’t a lot of storage built into the tiny cabin, but Shiro re-checks the under-bed drawers just in case. Then he pops open the cubby Keith seems to have forgotten existed.

It’s a small space, but there are a few things tucked inside— an old Garrison security badge, several unused postcards, and a brochure for an Earth attraction that Shiro almost can't believe survived the invasion. Rifling through the forgotten collection, a booklet falls to the floor with a slap.

Shiro bends to see, turning it over in his hands to see the cover of the simple kanji practicing book. Now that’s a blast from the past. Why would Keith have something like this? He never studied Japanese. 

Shiro flips to the first page. Inside he finds the neat grid of boxes filled with kanji. The first two rows are written in a beautiful, practiced hand. Below there are uncertain lines, some unfinished, abandoned, and others crossed out. The ones that are complete are shaky, awkward. A child’s handwriting, just learning how to make the shapes.

The kanji is  史 , shǐ. The word is _history_ and it fills the page. By the bottom margin it’s growing in confidence, spilling over and filling the entire next spread. Shiro knows it must be his daughter’s hand— who else, for it to be here. He marvels at it, wondering why.

Shiro turns another page and finds a different word, again written first in an adult’s fluid handwriting. This one is  織 and Shiro has to dig deep in his memory to place it as he lets his finger brush over the strokes. It’s definitely not a primary school word, but it’s familiar in that distant way that things from childhood can be.

“Weave,” Shiro says aloud, softly to himself. But why on Earth—

Shiro turns the page again and goes very still.

The kanji are written together now, alternating  史 and  織 . Getting clearer and stronger, written out many dozens more times. A name. Her name.

_Shiori._

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice pierces his awareness as he walks up behind, peering around his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

It isn’t until Keith’s hand rests flat on his back that Shiro notices he’s holding his breath. He lets it out all at once.

“I didn’t know her name.”

“Huh?”

“I- didn’t know my daughter’s name. You named her Shiori.”

Keith’s cheeks flush as understanding dawns. “The nickname really stuck,” he mumbles, studying Shiro’s expression with a slight frown. Keith sighs, wrapping his hand gently around Shiro’s metal fingers where he grips one edge of the book.

“She was all I had left of you. Or that’s what I thought. Is it so strange that I named her after you?”

“Not strange,” Shiro makes a strangled sound. Keith steps closer leaning his head against Shiro’s shoulder.

“She never studied the language, not properly. But a teacher gave her this, after the war. She was a big hero, you know— we all were, I guess.”

Shiro looks back down at the book. Keith reaches for it, slipping past most of the remaining pages until he finds what he’s looking for near the back of the book.

“This man wanted her to know something of her heritage, to help her salvage something from the wreckage of the past. Like she had saved his world, his family. She practiced a few words. Mostly she learned her name, and yours.”

The kanji for Shirogane and Takashi repeat down the page. This one doesn’t start with a teacher’s handwriting— just Ori’s hand, grown more confident in her strokes with practice. 銀貴 , 銀貴 , 銀貴 . She wrote his name at least a hundred times. They had never even met.

“She did this,” Shiro gasps, “why?”

“Because I missed you. I could never hide that from her. She always knew,” Keith swallows, choosing his words. “And she wanted to know where she came from. She wanted to know you.” Keith gives him a searching look. “And now she gets to.”

Shiro runs his fingers over the strokes of his name, as though the pad of his finger were a tiny brush. He turns back to her name, committing the strokes to memory. _Woven history._

“It’s a beautiful name, Keith,” he says. “I don’t know what to say, just— thank you.”

~ * ~

“Close your eyes, kiddo,” Keith murmurs in his daughter’s ear on the sofa. Ori giggles and does as she’s asked.

_That’s my cue,_ Shiro thinks, quickly lighting the candles. Hunk made them special, ten slender braids dipped in bright red wax. They offset the peach-tinted icing just right. Hunk left them several cake kits he packed into jars, this one banana cream. 

The candles start to spark wildly with flecks of gold as Shiro lights the last of them.

Plate in one hand, Shiro dims the pantry light and rounds the corner from the galley. When he and Keith start singing, their girl’s eyes fly open with excitement. She bounces in Keith’s lap.

“Happy birthday to you,” Shiro finishes the song, planting a kiss to Ori’s temple.

“Go on, make a wish,” Keith says, his dark eyes dancing with golden sparks.

Ori is pensive, looking up with wide eyes. “Papa, you do it.”

Shiro scoffs. “No way,” he ruffles her hair. “Wish for anything you like. But it’s gotta be your wish.”

She looks like she might protest, but then smiles and blows out all of the candles. It takes two breaths, but nobody’s counting. Shiro whistles in the near-dark when she’s gotten them all, stars peaking out all around them.

Keith flicks on the lamp by the sofa. “Happy tenth, angel.”

“What was that about,” Shiro stage-whispers at her ear. “You know it’s _your_ wish on your birthday, yeah?”

Ori looks at him and laughs. “But I already got my wish. Forgot I had to think of a new one.”

Keith locks eyes with Shiro over their daughter’s shoulder.

“Well,” Shiro continues, deflecting a bit as he reaches for the candles and sets one of her cupcakes in her outstretched hand. “It’s a good thing you’re so quick and clever, then.”

Ori can’t respond through a big mouthful of cake and icing, but she blushes with pleasure, kicking her feet. Her legs hardly reach the floor, but that won’t be true for much longer.

Shiro knocks one back in a single bite and then takes a seat at Keith’s far side, giving him a sugary kiss. Keith wrinkles his nose but leans into his space, content to snuggle up and savor a quiet moment. Ori licks icing from her fingers before wiping up her hands.

“Does Kosmo get to have one?”

Keith snorts. “I don’t think he wants one, but I leave that up to him.”

“We’ll make the bacon-flavored cupcakes for his birthday,” Shiro jokes.

Keith twists to fix a look on Shiro. “That wolf has a sophisticated palate.”

Shiro grins innocently. “Are you calling bacon unsophisticated?”

“What’s bac-on?” Ori asks.

“Meat,” Keith replies unhelpfully, turning back to Ori, “and he’s kidding.”

Ori makes a face at the notion of meat cupcakes and drops the matter.

“There are so many left,” she muses, turning the plate to inspect them. The icing does look rather pretty even though it’s spackled on haphazardly. At least it didn’t melt right off this time. Shiro figures that a few more of Hunk’s excessively-detailed backing kits and he could really get the hang of it. But Ori’s not looking for the flaws; she smiles to herself, admiring them.

“We’ll just have to eat them for breakfast,” Shiro teases. Keith elbows him, hardly a nudge, laughing while he does. “Hey, I was serious!” Shiro insists. “They’re banana. That’s almost healthy.”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“For breakfast!” Ori chimes in. “And Airiko can help me with the rest.” She reaches for her floppy yellow hippo who’s been draped over the arm of the sofa, leaning him like he’s sitting in her lap. The toy is tattered in that thoroughly-loved sort of way, and being ten has not dampened her enthusiasm for her stuffed companion.

“That reminds me,” Keith gets up and reaches for a box he’d stashed beneath the coffee table earlier. It’s wrapped in sky-blue paper covered in big yellow stars. “This is yours, star-shine.”

Ori’s gasp is the sweetest sound. Keith crouches and settles the box in her lap, steadying it while she rips at the paper. 

Shiro beams. He’s been waiting for this ever since he spied the toy at a swap moon market. The stuffie probably wasn’t any kind of Earth-based pachyderm, but whatever it was it had that familiar hippo shape of her most beloved toy, but big and soft and new. He’d traded for it immediately, hiding it away for a special day.

“Oh oh oh oh,” she coos, enthralled as she feels the soft fabric, pressing her nose to the creature’s big snout. “I love her.”

Keith smiles. “Shiro found her for you.”

Ori squirms sideways in Shiro’s direction, leaning into his ribs in a tumble of limbs clutching stuffed not-hippos. Shiro laughs as she settles there, sprawled out and perfectly at ease.

“Thank you, Papa,” she sings, bumping Airiko’s snout against that of her big new toy like it’s a kiss. “A whole family!” she chirps, simply delighted.

Shiro looks up to find Keith’s face, still crouched near their daughter’s feet and looking on with wonder in his eyes.

Shiro opens his arms. Keith’s cheeks turn pink at the gesture, like he’s been caught in his marveling.

“Come on,” Shiro says, “get in here.”

Keith’s grin turns sly. He climbs up, joining the pile. When he’s folded around Ori securely, the tickling starts— and continues, until they’re all squealing and breathless in a swirl of quintessence that Ori kicked up without really noticing. Her marks are glowing softly blue and her smile is a mile wide.

“Traitor,” Keith accuses with a raspy shriek when Shiro gets him one last time under the ribs.

“Be careful what you wish for, _old timer,”_ Shiro grunts a laugh.

Keith leans up and kisses his face, fingers curling in their daughter’s hair where she’s stretched out breathless across their laps. 

“Oh, I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sheith friends, find me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero)!
> 
> I live and breathe your comments, including emoji dances and keysmashes— all welcome. Thank you for reading. ♥️


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